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(The 5!'imc5. 


ILY !) TO DECEMBER 31, 1898. 




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^"^•mes offr;e, printing house square. 



Edited by 

Published by 

Jhr 7imtn. 

Sn. ;y. SATURDAY. JULY 9. 181ft*. 



Leading Article— A Ix's.son to tin- nistoridii . 1 

" Among my Books," by Dean Stubbs 12 

Poem " l'\ History," by {teoixe Meredith 11 

"Hatteraa," by A. E. W. Muson It 


Unmi'lUNni's Mssivys in I'^icnch Literature 

The Woiitb'rful Century 

The Soul of H People 

Lott(u\s of M/iry Sibylla Holland 

Psyeholoi^y unci Art— 

Oiil lincH of Sociology— A Primer of Pgychology 

Gaiety ('brouicle-s 

MInop Notices— 

llictory of KiiKliind for Middle l-oriuB— Hlntorioil KjikUsIi und 
DurlvHtion Tlu- Bible of St, Murk -Willow und leather -Tho 
Proverbs of X<irthHniptonrthire lllUf^tmlod Catatonue of the 
"Tivte tiulbrry "--Handbook Ui llio Nulional (iallory -Practical 
Itlcalisin ha Vt'r>ii>n \co-(Jrr<Mnu' du Pentatruqtu' Polyvrlottc 1), U> 


The Dark Way of Love 15 

The Ailniiral 10 

l)f. DuniMiiy's Wife 17 

American Letter -By Henry Jamea a 17 

Prom tlie Magazines 10 

Coppespondence— Tbc MakinR of RoliKinn (Mr. Andrew Lang) - 

Ttio l.ifiof William Tcrriiw— Submarine Tclegmphs 20, 21 

Notes 21, 22, 23, 21 

List of New Books and Reprints 2J 


It may be that in this age of universal reprints the 
announcement of a new anil coiniilete edition of an English 
classic is no infallible sign of an increased demand for his 
works. If the cynical French definition of a classic, as "a 
writer whom everybody praises and nobody reads," has 
any foundation in truth, the announcement in question 
might only prove that there had been an augmentation in 
in tlie number of his eulogists. Hut even that construction 
of it would be sufficient to give significance to the recent 
statement that a new edition of Macaulay's works — to be 
called, rather fancifully, "The Albany," in commemoration 
of their author's residence in what his nephew has de- 
scribed as " that luxurious cloister whose inviolable tran- 
quillity affords so agreeable a relief from the roar and 
flood of Piccadilly" — will be among the leading autumn 
publications. Even, we say, if this only meant that more 
people are recommending other jieople to " devote their 
Vol.. III. No. 1. 

liii,.-* iiijit infill.-, iw ill'- .-^iiiiiY wi .11.11 ftiii.i > . iii.ii iji'iii- 

Hchouimasters are pres.sing him uixtn their pupiltt, that 
the bookMellem get more orders for hi8 work« firoin the 

free Mbraries, it would still mean much. For it w ' ' 

show how far the greatest of all the gift* of the hint' 
the biographer, and the critic is the gift of being int 
ing, and over how many and how serious dangers t-. tn.- 
immortiility of their fame it can trium[»hantly prevail. The 
age which has succeeded that of Mat^ulay may be said, 
almost without e.xaggenition, t<J stand in polar opiXMtition to 
it as regards the goveniing i)rinci|>les on which lii>tory and 
biography should l)e written and critical jutlgments fr; 
This is not to say, of coiu"se, that there are no liU*rary  
ties in such writings, or moral qualities in their am 
which were not and are not ecjually admired and valuetl 
by either age. But the one <iuality — that of absolute 
truthfulness and good faith — which Mauaulay's con- 
temjMJrary admirers were prepared — not without r^ 

perhaps, but still prepared — to relegate to the second [ 

in iinix>rtance, in consideration of the brilliancy displayed 
by the illustrious historian, biographer, and e.ssayist in 
the act of doing without it. "or hvd •-.•n.r iii,,ri inn-xibly 
insists on putting first. 

Nor is it as though the complaints against him 
had reference merely to intellfK-tual perversities and 
prejudices ;. we have purposely chosen the words •' truth- 
fulness " and " good faith " to indicate that MacaulayV 
chief offence for the student of to-day is his lack of one 
of the imjwrtant of the moral (jualities required by 
any man who undertakes to pronounce judgment, either a« 
writer or in any other capacity, on the acts and characters 
of men. •\ttempts, it is true, have often been and still 
are made to gloss over this e.\tremely di.sagreeable fact; but 
they are entirely futile. To i)lead, as is freijuently jdeaded, 
on l>ehalf of Macaulay that he sur\'eyed all men and all 
things " through Whig spectacles " is merely to excuse his 
prejudiced views upon what are fair matters of opinion ; no 
spectacles. Whig or other, compel a writer to " select" his 
facts, to present his readers with aifsumjitions di.xguised 
as facts, to build thereon an e':*'-  theory of the char- 
acter and motives of historic ; 'S. and to sup|)ort 
this theory by ])utting words of his o»ii invention into their 
mouths. Above all no " Whig spectacles " )■-•• ->»i---,';< can 
justify that moral insensibility which was i <lis- 
played by Macaulay, when, as in the notorious ca>es of 
William Penn, Sir Elijah Impey, and others, he obstinately 
refused to correct misstatement*' of fact, or even to notice 
their exiwsure, when his attention was subsetjuently calleti 
to them by persons provided with full material for the 
demonstration of his errors. These are oflfences which to the 


[July 9, 1898. 

hiatorical spirit of the praent day might well appear and 
which do in fiict appear un{)ardonal)le, offences which would, 
onemiL'' • " " " f^j^ tot" lofnny historian 

to whom iiebrougi i tliey have Uvn 

brought home to Macaulay diirinf; the |)eriod which ha« 
•lapMd sin- ''>r enu- 

meration. I no one 

who has e\"er had to devote an}-thing like careful study to the 
li\. ' -■ "" ' ■" • ■" '  • 'V ., (o 

th»- - i f!*- 

bory, and of Marlborou$;h, and to compare the results of 
their ii uiththe ■■• '- tjiven of these worthies 

and till - in t lys and the History 

can have (ailed to find therein instances of suppretutw 

' and so abo:: ": 
1 with any « 
theory of the historian's and essayist's regard for justice 
and truth. 

Yet theee repeated and damaging discoveries, how- 
ever they may have discre«lited .Macaulay in the 
estimation of the student and tlie teacher of history, have 
not in the slightest degree shaken his hold u|ion the 
regard of the average Englishman, whose conception 
of mo«t, if not all, of the illustrious or notorious 
persons named above is still founded as firmly 
as ever on the brilliant portraits which have lieen 
drawn of them in the History and the Essays. The 
Strafford and the Dryden, the Jeffreys and the .Marl- 
borough of the average Englishman are still the 
Strafford of the review of llallam's great work, and of 
Lord Nugent's " llarajxien," the Dryden, Jeffreys, and 
^larlhorough of the History of England under the last two 
Stoartii aixl William 111. It is the same with the absurdly 
depreciatefl Horace Waljwie and the unduly ridiculed 
BoHwell ; it is the same with Clive and Warren Hastings. 
In vain did the latest of laud's biographers eialionitely 
prove — what, indeed, ought to have needed no j»roof — 
that the protaeonist of the Church in the great religious 
iiteenth century was something more 

, nis old dotard of the "Hampden" 

review ; in vain did the Uite Sir James Ste])hen de- 
monstrate in two volumes, of near six hundred pages 
in all, that Imjiey was not the mere Rul)ser\ient tool of the 
destroyer of Nuncomar. The probability still is that the 
"great incurious public" will continue to cherish tlieir 
ideals of InijK'y as a sort of Anglo-Indian Scroggs, and of 
liBud aa a hard-hearted though imbecile old ecclesiastic, 

I in cutting off the ears of 
^ ■- iliary about his ridiculous 

dreams. The truth is, of course, that whatever history 
the average r " " lot gathererl from S<ott and 

Shakespean- ^ ■• aulay, and that it is almost 

as difficult to eradicate the beliefs implanted in his mind 
by the hut ■■' " rs as it is to rid him of the 

impressions !• two. 

It in worth noticing, too, that Macaulay holds his 
own, not only against the well-justiti)>d denoimcers of his 
historical and biographical trav"-' v.ns, but also against 
the less reasonable censors of ! The faults of the 

performer on this remarkable instrument of language are, 
of course, conspicuous enough — his hardness of tone, his 
want of '•breadth," his over-foiidncss for xlticatto jMissages, 
and all the rest of it. Hrougliam sneered at " Tom's 
8ni{>-snap " ; Mr. John Morley has reprehended his 
"stamping; emphasis"; the late Mr. (otter Morison, 
a writer of remarkable gmce and elegance, has •' dealt 
faithfully " with his occasional faults of taste ; the late Mr. 
-Matthew .\niokl, less just in his critiiisni than eitlier, has 
ridicule<i the eniphiisis as a stamp of the foot in the 
wrong place, and has declared roundly (and most ]mra- 
doxically) that it lias "the a]»peanince of hitting the right 
nail on the head without the reality." Hut not one of 
them does anything like justice to that ijuality which 
undoubtedly has done more than any other to secure his 
liold uiwn the understanding and tastes of the average 
man — his unsurpassed and unsuqmssable i)ersj)icuity. 
Professor Saintsbnry, the fairest and -most judicious of all 
his critics, gives his style no more than its deserts in 
affirming that " it is perhaps the clearest style in 
English that does not, like those of Swift and Cobliett, de- 
lilx-rately or scornfully eschew rhetorical ornament. What 
Macaulay means you never, being any degree short of an 
idiot, can fail to underst^md ; and yet he gives you the sense 
equipi)ed with a very considerable amount of prejMiration 
and trimming." A writer who is at once a consummate 
master of concise narrative — dramatic and i)ictures(jue, 
where the action and the surroundings atVonl scoj)e for the 
display of those qualities, and always, whether they are 
j)resent or absent, transparently clear — is a writer who can 
never fail to be interesting, a writer of w horn we can say 
in sober truth, what has often been said of others in the 
language of hyperbolical comjiliment, that he has " never 
written a dull l«ge." Surely there is a lesson in this 
for the historian of the modem school, whether he will 
learn it or whether he will forliear. It is jwssible, of 
course, that he may altogether decline to concern him- 
self with the question of popularity or unpopularity at 
all, and that, so long as he has the ear of the learned 
world, he may be indifferent to the question whether 
he has any other ])ublic whatsoever. If, however, he has 
any zeal for the ])ro]iagation of historical truth, or even 
if only it gives him any uneasiness to think of the 
obstinate prevalence of historical error, the imi>otenee 
of the one to establish its<df and the onmi])otence of the 
other in resisting dislodgment, ius illustratHl in the case 
of Macaulay, must suggest to him the serious reflection — 
not always sufficiently present to the minds of our 
meritoriously diligent historical students — that the his- 
torian who hoi)es to teach must begin by interesting his 


Bruneti^re's Essays in French Literature. A Selec- 
tion, 'i'ninslatcd hy D. Nichol Smith. With u Preface by 
tin* Author. 7J K 5iin.. xiv. I 2.V) |)i>. I/hkIoii, IHDK. 

Unwln. 7/6 

M. Ferdinand Kruneti^re seated at his desk with an 
ink-bottle in front of him is a very different man from the 
same eminent lilUrfUeur standing erect ujwn a platform 

July 9, 1898.] 



'b«*fort' a wat«»r-carafe. In the latter situation he is 
ij>erverse, jtrejiidiced, pnnnloxifiil to the last (lej;n>e 
— holdinij a |K)litical brief, addicted to a j)hiloso|ihical 
Hchool. pledged to an etliifai theory of art, with 
which as a sttKh-nt of Hteniture he luis no real concern 
but to which he a|)jiarently feels bound for the occasion 
to conform his literary views. In the former, his true, 
capacity, he is a critic of rare insight andacconiplislnnent, 
nane, learned, juilicinl. catholic ; as admirable a repn^- 
Kentativt^ of those (jualities of the French genius in 
thou^'ht and expression which no other analyst has more 
acutely observtHl and discriminated, as could anywhere he 
•found. In this volume of selections from his essays, 
translated by .Mr. I). N'ichol Smith, with sufficient fidelity 
as regards matter, though with much inevitable loss to 
its attractions of style, he is seen at his best. Perhaps 
even here the tendency to jMiradox is occasionally per- 
ocptil)lc — as, for instance, in his defence of tliose objects 
of Moliere's immortal ridicule, the precienafs of the age 
of Louis XIV., an ajwlogy which, though it has doubtless a 
foundation in justice, is surely pressed too far. An undue 
insistence ui>on this ]>art of his case has somewhat 
weakened the effect of the otherwise excellent essjiy on 
tiie " Influence of Women on French Literature." It is 
a large claim to make for women, that they " have given 
the French genius its form," especially when the extent 
and im]>ort of that claim is explained as follows : — 

III Frt'iicli tliorc aro riilos of tho art of wrilinf; as of that of 
coinposiiii; — or, nitlier, thoy are the snmv — whicli we call forinal, 
"that is to say, pro-ox isttmt to the ideas which aro to l)e ex- 
prossoil. So tho woinoii have deoided (I). 

And again : 

Thi'j' wishoil that there sh<>\il<l be no sentimont, no matt»tr 
how subtle, no thou^jlit, no matter how profound, that could not 
1)0 exprossotl by tho words and praniniar of modern usa^e. They 
wished, in short, that elegance sliould lie given to those matttrrs 
which least allow of it, and that there should never be any 
■escape, under any pretext whatever, from the laws of the art of 

And once more : 

But throughout thes(> revi>hition.s [in language], most of 
which succeeded only in so far as they had their supiwrt, the 
Voinon always pursued the design they had formed — to subject 
sooner or later all tho innovators themselves to the need of 
clearness, justness, and order. Whatever subject one treats in 
French, if he wishes to treat it as an author, he must circumscribo 
and limit it—trniisjmse it from its special language into the 
language of everybody, spare tho reader the fatigue of attention, 
an<f load him, in short, to believe that tho thoughts have for 
long been his, and were his even Iniforo they were ours. This is 
the secret for tho last two h\indred years of the diflu-sion of the 
French language : French books explain each other. 

No doubt an admirably complete definition of the genius 
<if the French language ; but so complete a definition, so 
exhaustive an account of all that makes it what it is, 
that, if we were to accept -M. Hrunetiere's theory without 
j-eserve, we should have to believe that the French 
language itself, m all its modem perfection, was the 
creation of the Hotel de Ramlxjuillet. And this although 
that famous coterie was contemjwrary with Pascal, who 
did more than any one writer — as even M. Brunetiere, we 
gather, would not deny — to determine the future of French 
prose, and than whom no writer was more wholly free 
from the influences of the kkIoh. 

Hut if we cannot follow .M. Hrunetidre with entire 
assent through his historical dissertation on the develop- 
ment of the national language, we can unreservedly 
admire the jxiwers of jienetrating analysis and lucid 
exjMisition with which he exhibits its characteristic merits, 
its function and mission — in fact, its whole ethos. To 
i<ay that he sets these forth with absolute impartiality — 



lU 'f 

. ill 

to nay that he is lu ketmly alive to the danireni which 

beset the use of this i " * ' ' ' 

! thought as he is to it« 
say that ho is more than innn. 
Frenchman. Hut it rnuxt Ix- 

only by way of omioKion, and not of v\ .n ; and 

that, if he haa fnihtl to notice the jxirlo u .. i : i 

the French lan^untie reveals the defect* of : 



case unstated — or wliere, rathr-r, he liints at .<-ni 

of it, and jwisses on contented with an in;ol.- i..i 

— is in such a ]Mii<fia{;e as the following; :- 

Is it f... •.. \uM »..! 

accused of I > I ilo r 

ex. I 


tile « < 'I i< I '»i '>r 

depth, while cei t 

of M I •- - - 



times profound. 

often In statin^- 

really more 

Fichto and 

the coil' ., und, if I 

tlioir <i lits, lenve  

out, wliiU: i' and I , i» 

still evidently the e' . i* 

satisfied if li^ 

culty which 

of thodepth i>i mri u- 

had failed in his aim it 

elfort, and he prefers u. , .... ...,,. . i„ ,.,, i.,,,„ , ,,,„,, ..,.^, ,,,,-. 

Surely it is the very irony of circumstance that ha.s 
made M. Hruneticre furnish us in this ] an 

object-lesson on that besetting danger :ich 

writer which he has omitted to notice. For there could 
be no better examjile of the snare that is set for 
him by a language which, in the hands of a majiter. seems 
to mould it.self of its own accord into epigrams tlnr 
attractively antithetic sentences afford. Tin- t 
of the German only seems profound ! le has 

chosen to leave it obscure; that of the I .. .. ..:... in onlv 

api)ears superficial because he ha.s preferred to make it 
clear. When you can jmt the thing as neatly as this 
why about for any other explanation ? .Anvthintr so 
exquisitely symmetrical, so unsjieakably - ist 

belong to the eternal harmony of the lie 

pretlestinately correct. Vet what if there he thoughts 
which cannot be pellucidly expre.sssed — thoughts which a 
reader can be made to understand " only with effort " ? 
And what if the miserable (rerman's be one of them ? 
Or are there no such thoughts? I>et M. Hnmetien* 
himself reply : — 

" We warn those wli^i r.. i.l tli. .c «r;i;,,.rv • ^.. .1 )•.. .!=,,.. ..„et> 

in a preface, "that tli^ . ry 

subtle matters ir/i.',;. !,"l 

cannot convey to  of men without t: lor 

without that atUi ng troublesome." v: .in 

that tliere are Soiiiu iiisttt«rs which uiii receive <-  lin 

degree of clearness, which cannot be tr<-it<>d cur- ich 

are not to be skinime<l, which i .d ; but pvrliapa, 

also, we neetl to be llossuet to d . m. 

Yes, but the trouble is that many jieople. « ithont 
being Bossuets, do dare to touch them ; and. what is 
more, believe that they have " iiithomed " when they ha%-e 
only ".skimmed" them, being aided in th. ' ' ' by the 
illusion of a language which is always tho«e 

who use it the most skilfully to imagine ih er 

part of a thought they can expre,<s with lucidity »■» 

its whole content. 



[July 9, 1898. 

Ii -as in the n-viow of 

M. Mau -cau, M. Hninetii'iv'ii 

ptmonal ]• >n8 ckv reveal themselves; 

■ltd hi- . 11 .1 -^('nt men are i>er- 

ha|w r le viewK of the 

day. I 'i-mtion, 

and de; !'■ a for- 

midable o|>|)onent of thr- iuiiniren^ of N'oitAire and 

of thone who nuiintain ;..■ j-- ition that the author of 
Tariuft aimttl his Mow only at hy])ocrisy and not at the 
whole sacei ' .>fession. The ]Ht])er on the *' I'liixsic 

and Komni • ^rreil hv s4-»!ne nm-ertainty of view, and 

if in »<' iry of the whole. But 

"AnAi - h the volume cou- 

clodes, is n '*, eloquent and in<;enious enough to 

re.  ' uii more than we find to object to in 

M, viihune. The case for that des]iise<l and 

vii ■■■■.• the jiower of logic 

aiiD . more viijorously and 

eflTectively jiut. And there is no less truth tlian sulitlety 
in the remark that the rhetoricians in their indefatigable 
search for the eff»*ctive have often succeeded in disengaging 
an'' ■' ' " " *' -lential elements of strengtii and 

be.. 't" ]im!ie classics who would them- 

advtn liavi' Ivrepiidi ' hetnriciniis' 

namM. **!.•  -nys .M. 1. ■•," tiiatit is 

Thaa« swom weigher* of wonla an<l syllables. . . . these 

rirtuo*"-  •' " "' '"■' -' '' tlu'»« loaders of faxhion, a 

B«dsac. ^('iii Ln Uruyi-re, Foiu^Ion, 

to". ^'' 1 :iml liow many 

oti '•< supple ami 

pli . riieiit it is — or 

was. i l> is to be fniiiiil, when sought 

for, in ' ibrinnc) or a Rousseau, u Itossuot 

or '' .Icarly in thi<so writings and jnit 

wit 'X n-liat the natural style was : 

Ps*cal it, and all its merits were 

recogn:. i is the rlietorioian.i nho have 

ezainineil win r^ in t '■ and whether any 

of its secrets may be >  the I'nirinriaUii, 

awl it is they whiiliavu j'^mmkii <mii xw nuo^tiicrasies of Pascal, 
•ihI, if I tnay say s<*, enricheil the language with them. 

It nt criticism, and many such 

wii. 1 "'omitel the reflection of the 

mo«t critical and least convinced of M. Bruneti^re*s readers. 


The 'WonderfHl Century : it« Hiic<h-<w.« and its Failures. 

".'' lit iif till' Author, 

■. • Jmiip. isiw. 
.-..« 1...R. Doad Mead. 
Sonnenschein. 7,6 


A' :ful" — that is to .siy, of 

the nil' . -"-(l witliin four hundred 

page«, of which the last two hundred and forty-one are 

' " " ind only the first one hun(ire<l and 

mu.>«t surely Ix* entitled to a ])lace 
The attempt 
-flf, anfl tiie way 
wonderful still. 
, iiible of fact and 
ry, of narrative and prophecy, 
•II 11.11 iiirtune to encounter. Perhaps 
r is that it should be written by a 
• fringe of a 
gi <1 it. woidd 

an  i>y side with tlial of Darwin ; 

fome to reganl " phrenology" 

I " a.i< (Mssible in an organized 

'■\ oracle, 
iy igno- 
rant or lio|»e)*» «t roii){-lit-<ule<i. Tiie XntoV allordr a melan- 

devoted to " f«i' 

fifly-nine to 





fiction, of - 

whi ■' -■■ ' 




bu: - .. 

■• a Mriencp, 



choly proof of the extent to which tlie faculty called by 
Faraday "judgment" may lie jHTmitted to decay, even 
while the faculty of observation is l>eing exercised ; ami 
if we were called ujxjn to suggest a motto for the title-jiage, 
it would he, " Fears of the brave, a)ul follies of tiie wise." 

Mr. Wallace's select ion of the successes of the century 
is not only arbitniiy. Imt may be said to err in the direc- 
tion of triviality. The invention of friction matches, 
although they add appreciably to domestic convenience, 
could hardly be described even by a German as "ejioch- 
making." The enumerated improvements in locomotion, 
in labour-^aving machinery, in the conveyance of thought, 
and in the applications of light to pliotogia](liy and 
siKftrum analysis are all of them imjxirtniit ; but many 
words are devottnl to other alleged discoveries, some of 
which can hardly be said to have |>assed out of the region 
of hyjiothesis into that of completed knowledge. What 
might have been exjiected, on the principles laid down by 
the author, to lie in his opinion the greatest success of all is 
hardly nientionetl. We refer to the manner in which the 
government and general policy of the country have fallen 
out of the hands of privileged classes, and are novr 
controlled by the nation as a whole. 

The " failures " of the century, from Mr. Wallace's 
]x)int of view, are numerous and iinportimt. Tiie list 
includes the " opj)ositii>n to hypnotism and i)sycliical 
research"; the endeavour to prevent epidemic small|)0x 
by compulsory vaccination ; the " plunder of the earth," 
apparently by digging coal and selling it to foreign 
nations ; the " demon of greed " and otlier matters wliicii 
the exigencies of space forbid us to notice. We must 
confine ourselves to tlie '"failure" to wliicii the first place is 
assigned, and to which, it may therefore lie presumed, Mr. 
Wallace attaches the greatest amount of imjiortance. 
Tliis, of all conceivable things, is neither more nor less 
than " the neglect of phrenology." Phrenology is an 
assemblage of doctrines wliicii teacii tliat the endowment.'^ 
of man dejiend ujK)n an uncertain number of independent 
" faculties," each of wliich is asserted to be due to the 
activity of separate portions of brain, ministering to it 
alone, occupying fixed positions, and called " organs." The- 
"organs " are said to be arranged in jiairs, two for every 
faculty, tiie two iiemispheres of the brain being exact 
counterjmrts. I>arge "organs" form elevations on the 
surface of the brain, with corresjwnding elevations of the 
skull and its coverings; and small "organs" iK»rmit 
depressions. Tiie various combinations of large and small 
" organs" prmluce all existing diversities of cajiacity and 
character; a man's animnl, moral, and intellectual con- 
stitution lieing the result of tiie iiaiance of his " fa<uitie8," 
much as the flavour of a disii depends ujKin the pro) lortions^ 
in which its ingredients have l)een mingled. The 
" organs " of the intellectual " faculties " are said to be 
situate in the front jwrtion, or anterior lolie, of each 
hemisphere; the " organs " of the moral faculties in the 
middle IoIm-; jind the "organs" of tiie animal ]iropensities 
in the jiosterior loiie, which occupies the back of the iiead. 

That such an assemblage of grotewjue hyiiotlieses 
could ever have been formulated, or, when formulatefl, 
could ever have been seriously discussed, can only be 
exjilained by tiie existence of a class of jx'i>ons descrilied 
by Bisho|i Butler ns having mucli curiosity to know what 
is said, but no sort of curiosity to know wliat is true. The 
sfvcalled "science" had for its aim the investigation of 
indefinable conditions by inexact methods ; and the only 
" evidence " ever adduced in its sujiport was of the 
same kind as that which has been adduced in favour 
of palmistry, or of the interpretation of character 

July 9, 1898.] 



from linndwritinp. Tlie whol<» nystpm was flpmolislud, 
from tin- side of the siii>j)OS('<l '• fuciiltieH " tlicnisi'lvi-s, \>y 
Jeftrcy, in tlic 44th volimie of tli*" Kdiiifntryh Hi-vit^u; 
and n<,'iiin from itw phyniologiml side by Dr. CtirjionUT, 
who showed tfint the first rudiments of the brain liemi- 
spheres make their ajipj-arHnc-e in the lowest animals as 
re])resenUitions or aiudof,Mics of th<' anterior lobes alone. 
In aseendini^ the animal s<'ale the anterior lol)es inereiLse 
in size and i<im|)lexity, and the middle and the jKisterior 
lobes are ))laced behind them by degrees ; but it ifl only 
in man that this process reaches its completion, and that 
the posterior lobes (the assumed seats of animalism) are 
fidly developed. More recently, it has been shown bv 
Kerrier and llitzi^' that the functions of the op]),)site 
hemispheres are not identical, and timt areas of brain 
surface which are claimed by i)hrenologists as the seats of 
moral or intellectual faculties are in fact subordinate to 
the performance of voluntary movements of some restricted 
kind, as tlie left frontal convolution to the movements of 
siM'ech ; but Mr. Wallace actually claims this discovery 
as supporting the views which, both in princijile and in 
localization, it obviously and emphatically condemns. 
Phrenology made the two frontal convolutions the 
*' organs " of " hope," and placed the " organs " of 
language in or behind the eyes. 

The social conditions of the century aflFect Mr. 
AVallace in an extmordinary manner, and he draws a 
])icture, in ojiiwsition to all known facts or recorded 
exjierience, of increasing .i)enury and distress in the 
;great army of industry. He "does not believe, or 
will not admit, that the lives of working i>eoi)le have 
undergone ]m)(ligious ameliomtion ; and he talks the 
<'oinmon stuff of the strike agitator about the tyranny of 
<apital and the cruel exploitation of the jjoor. As a remedy 
for the conditions which he deplores, he suggests that a 
revenue of about four millions a year should lie raised by 
additional taxation of the •• rich," and that it should be 
expended in giving bread to everybody wlio asks for 
it. He does not agn>e with the aiwstolic dictum, '"if 
any man will not work, neither shall he eat," and his 
liroj)osal may ixM-liaps be sufficiently answeretl ont of the 
mouth of one of .M. Zola's characters in " Paris." " Ah ! 
le ])ain, croire (jue le Iionheur regnera ipiand tout lemonde 
aura du pain, quel imbecile esiioir I" 

In the early part of his career, Mr. Wallace was 
elected a Kellow of the Royal Society, and received the 
honorary flegree of D.C.L. from the Iniversity of Oxford. 
It is, perhaps, as a small indication of his complete 
severance from modem scientific thought and action that 
neither of these distinctions is suf^'ered to appear uj)on his i 


It is strangG to note the attraction which Bnddliism seems 
to possess for the luiimajiinative miml. .Some fourteen years ago, 
* number of pi^sons. none of tliuiii of the ideal habit, wlio ha<l 
been converted by tlie preceiit and example of a llussian pro- 
phetess, preached to the unintellifrent a s^Kicios of Buddhism, 
which was called " esoteric," and for a season it app<'aro<l as if 
" Tlieosopliy " would lie a ^oat social success. Itut as time 
■went by, and the fasliion in jmrasols changed and blue ceased to 
be much worn, and the pulfod sleeve was introduced, " esoteric 
Buddhism " lost a great part of its charm. People who liad hovn 
«oriou8ly thinking of '• making goml Karma " changed their 
minds and went to the Riviera, and " Do<lo " supplied the 
pabulum which the " Bhagavad (Jhita," theosophically under- 
stood, liad vainly ottered. 'Hiore were revelations, too, but 
revelations of a kind which did not confirm the message of 

.Vladnrnn HIa Lrxi tli« " hidgiM " of th* laefety 1 

liHlg... in til. -, ii|i4n»ly inli»bit<«J. Thm, •hortly •ft4M- 

the death of •• H. I'. B.," there wm » frwih crop of " phono- 
mena," a second influx of thn uniutnlligant, %aA, of oiurae, tits 
inevitable "revelation." Kin«--e that peritxl Huddhisni in iU 
" esoteric " form ha* been following the exampU of tlia famona 
Brer Itnbbit, but there are aigns that wlioii in the revolution of 
years the cycle fails and tlie mot md 

parasols return to their form.- an 

older pattern, then Kmldhism  .„t 

this time au tmtuirl, not .i ..'» 

book, The Sot.i. ok a I' 

cusor of the coming Bii ir 

I>oso an implied comi»ri».>ii between Buddhism an<l ity 

—a little futile, yet the raeHsago is pleaaantly ami ab., ... ....iud. 

Mr. Fielding, who, as wo gather from hi* IxKik, was one of tha 
English coni|uerorR of Burma, lias, it is plain, himself been con- 
quered, and ho wishes to U'll us how murli he prefen tb« 
Burmese men, manners, and roligion to anything that can b« 
fotnid in his native country. 

It is curious t ,. " 

a conclusion diun. _ Uior 

would enforce. .Mr. Kielding thinks tliat Buddhism is to b» 

preferred to Christianity ; his book goes to prov-- •> > -itle 

and benevolent religion of Uautama ia oxc . on 

those points in which it consents with the d..i.'iii .  ■^t, 

and a failure when it takes a direction oontr ir v t- ' ty. 

Humanity, gentleness, charity, chastity all i~ 

these, which Buddha recommended- arc wpi .. 

schools of Christendom ; but the central clivi a .i ,.|,^ 

that life, and then-fore energy, is evil, i^ ...j ., . , to 

our creed, but to the universal sense of man. K~i .;i • :: •rn exist- 
ence is the goal of the Buddhist, and, working t'.r thit eml, he 
must gradually exterminate not alone his evil iiaaaions, bat all 
passions alike, both good and evil. Buddliism, in ita last 
analysis, would consider comi>assion for the wretched, pity for 
the oppressed, as evil as hatro<l and envy ; a murderer and s 
philanthropist are, finally, much the same thing. A blank life, 
a blank consciousiH '•< Burmese ideals of iH>rfection, and 

tho worst vice of t . is energy of any kind. It is hardly 

necossun,- to refute hucli a system. .Mr. Fielding says that if a 
man were to get on a log and float down a Jiurmese river on the 
tide, he would \ie left alone— to float to salvation or <leatruction 
without interference : no impf>rtinent attempts at rescue would 
be made ; and if a villager feels inclinc<l to hang himself he 
does so, quite secure from the intervention of hi!< •••■•'' -irs. 
" He knows best," they a«y. The ideal Buddhist i ,ke 

nothing so much as a dreary young watermnn, wli' of 

" feathering his oars," like his West«Tn brother, •' w , nd 

dexterity," is content to float along, thinking of notbiug at all. 
Of course tho precepts of Buddha are not strictly carrioil ont 
in practice. That would mean the disappcarmnce of his disciple* 
from tho earth. 

Professor .Max Miiller has been repri>ache«l for translating 
and publishing tho Sacred Books of the Kast, on the ground that 
it was cruel to display so clearly their enormous inferiority to 
the religious teaching of Christianity ; and in the same way we 
must say that Mr. FieUling has been kind to the Burmese faith 
only to be cruel. We ilo not argue wit ' ka 

that leaf and blossom, and, nlxivo all - .tt 

vices of trees ; and »• ;;iirden 

under his charge abouii' i '•s-clad 

stumps. Of course, such a •• religion "a.'- oatiafy 

the people. They revolt from it ; tht^y :i to the 

decree of extermination, to the prohibition of prayer, to the 
chilly agnosticism which is its last word. Mr. Fielding tells us, 
verj- fairly, how the weary and heavy laden persist in praying, in 
despite of tha monks, how popular belief has peopled the tree* 
and the forests with fairies and nymphs, how the po<»r villager 
shrinks from the •' Nirvana " which i- ' ' i But how 

can one argue with him who has .sc ..thedral mud 

prefers to it the devilries and 8tnpiditit« ot the horrible pagoda ? 


[July 9, 1898. 


This Uxik k» oiu' of • typ* r«t« in English liturmture. >'<>r 
it* cuunU>r{»rt we mtut turn to I'Venoh inonioirs, to tlio tuuching 
»t«iCT o( •• Ko^-it tl'iuie S.riir," th<- I.ifu of Mmo. Kwetvliine, or 
tlio Jotinwls iif Ku):<*nio ile (iii«riii. With those liuit tho 
LnTKKx <ir Maky {Jibylla Holland (AmoUl, 7s. M.), 8o- 
l*rt«<«l aiiil Mliuxl by lu>r M>ii, Mr. lkimar<l llollaixl, have an 
««p(«ial affinity. Roth womtm were endowed with great force 
of charartcT aod gro»t strvnf^th of Affection, and both were 
gifted with tho same clear vision and kueii intelli)^ncti, the 
•am* remarkable powers of exjircssion. iioth possesaed that 
rare c|iiality of diatinction which, more thnn any other, lends 
•ndatitig nUua to the uutpourines of the soid. Both, iiltove 
alli had that strong hold on invisible things, combinml with 
•rdant humui lore, which has be«>n the murk of tho Siiints in 
all ados, from the days of Aiign»tiiK> and Francis to those of 
Gordon ami of Father Damion. 

A few biographical nott« help to connect tho letters 
and explain the different events to which they refer. Sibylla 
Hollan<1 wns the eldest daughter of Alfre<l Lynll. « writer 
of travels and philosophical discourses, who in IXiO becume 
ricar of Godmaraham, a small Kentish village in the 
ftti art part of the Stour Valley, where the river breaks 
through the raaga of chalk downs on its way to Canterbury. 
In 1848, when Sibylla was twelve years old, her father moved to 
Harbledown, a larger parish on tho Pilgrims' Way looking over 
Cantarbury— Chaucer's'* little town, which that yclepe<] is Bob- 
up-and-down, under tho Blee in Cant<>rbury way." There a 
larga £amily of young Lyalls grew up, and two of the brothers 
went rait to India and held high posts in the Civil Service. Sir 
Alfr. the accomplished poet and WTiter, became Governor 

oft; West Provinces, while Sir .Tames was Govonior of 

tha Punjab. Thiu at one moment these vast territorius. with 
their popidation of sixty millions, were administered by two 
brother* who hail grown up in this q\iiet parsonage — 
that home which they remembered so fondly on the scorching 
plains of India : — 

.\h ! that hamlet in Saxon Krnt— 

Shall I flD<l it when I come borne, 
With toil and travrllinfr well nigh 8|ient, 
Tire-I with life in juaicle anil tent, 

Kastwar<l nerer a^aio to roam ? 
Pleasaateit romer the world ran dhow. 

In a rale which sln|M'ii to thr English sea. 
Where strawbrrriea wild in the- woodland gruw, 
.\nd thi* cherty-trfe branrbc* ar>' b<-nding low, 

No »uch fruit in the south countree.* 

At iiiiH>ti-<'ii Siliyllii Lyall married Fnincis Holland, a son of the 
well-l:Tv«Ti jtw^i.^ifln. Sir Hotiry Holland, and brother of the 
pre*' ;i vicar of .St. Duiistiin's, a 

pari- ry. adjoining Harbledown. 

Tbore, in a little house looking out on the hop-gardens and 
whaatfields, they lived till 1861. when Mr. Holland became 
incumbent of Quebec Chapel aiMl moved to London. To his 
young wife this broak with old associations was at first very 
painful, and the death of her father in 1864, seemed to sever the 
last link with her Kent: ' But she soon became deeply 

attached to a new coi; ••. a house built for her husband 

at > 1. nnar ^ by his brothur-in-law. Mr. 

Chj« M. Iti t! Mg p;»rt of SuiTcy Mrs. Holland 

and her  •  : • I :i!_' and sumnu-r months for many 

y*mr», uv .i,iij iick t'> those days as some of tho 

happieat of hor life. "Tho place is sweet, but it was the life 
that wa led there tliat w-- »l>.. -wneteat. . . . You see it was 
the frame in which my lovely childhood was set. I too 

hare spent thousands «il mi n-mnd solitary hours in these woods 
and Aelda. Whm all my little childron were in beil I us«l to 

•'id remain long on tho high ground. 
' my heart's own temple, my .leru- 


i wrtttea ia ladia bjr Sir Alfivd LyaU. 

salem,' and I have felt such an overflowing tenderness and love 
aiid thankfulness." 

Tho ilenth of her son Alfred, a promising boy of nino, who 
was drowned in tho Wey one summer day, en<leared the spot 
still more to her. " No joy." she wrote at the time, " binds 
one to a place ijuite as much as a sorrow does." Tho four re- 
maining children were to her an ab.sorbing interest. But her 
interest in education was not conlincil to her own family, and 
it was at her suggestion that Canon Holland organizisl a Church 
Schools Company and founde<l the very successful high schools 
in Baker Street and (iraham Street for girls of the upper and 
middle classes. Like Kugenio do Gut'rin, Sibylla Holland read 
widely and thought dwply. Her letters contain few allusions to 
{Mtlitical events or public characters the ilonth of Matthew 
.\mold, a close jiorsonal friend, and the fall of Khartum being 
almost tho only topics of this kind ujmn which she dwells. The 
character of Cionlon. " the noble anil solitary soldier of whom 
this generation was not worthy," appealed to her in an e8i>ecial 
maiuier. Her intense appruoiation of natural beauty, on the 
other hanil, breaks out on every page. In a few words she brings 
before us the most charming ami accurate pictures of English 
landscape and Knglish woathor. For instance, on a suiiinioi' day 
at Harbledown, she writes : — 

ETrrythinK looks brilliant this morning, and all beyond tho imme- 
diate dark green of the ganlcns is of a pearly groy. This i» the jirevail- 
ing tint of East Krnt dixtani-es, and it is a sort of reilcrtion of the |ialo 
clianncl colours, clear but jiale. 'llie sea, the chalk, the wide comflelds 
the great i>|>cn .«kf above the northern waters, all combine to produce it. 
And. by way of conti-ast. here is a winter picture : — 

We are deep in snow here : it lies glittering two feet deep all round 
the ('athe<lral. On Christmas morning the aim row in a clear, pale blue 
sky against which the great Hell Harry Tower shone rosy red. .VII the old 
bouses and ruined arclics were muffled up in shining white, and every 
branch and twig anil iry leaf carried lines of snow three times its own In an old city like Canterbury this has a strange effect : 
towanls evL'iiing, when the light fades, everything looks disguised. The 
dumb streets, the niufHeil-up hurrying figures, the dim Imriiing lights, 
the bells and clocks in the sharp air above— all this seems to blot cot 
modem life. 

Very graphic, too, is her description of the i|uaint, old-world life 
at Knutsford the Cranford of Mrs. Gaskell's story and of the 
two old aunts who were the originals of Miss Matty and her 
sister, whose whole talk was of things that liapp<'ned sixty or 
seventy years ago. and who were firmly persuadwl that tho 
destruction of birds' nosts was owing to the Hefonn Bill , which first 
made the farmers clip their hedges ! Excepting for a few similar 
touches of liimioiu' here and there, tho tone of these letters is 
distinctly melancholy. Like all imaginative and romantic 
natures, the wTitor wa.s keenly alive to the suffering aroinid her 
and to the lleotiug sense of life's best joys. 

Every one [she writes to her son| follows his own temiwi anient or 
humour, llius nothing ever really changes, .'^o hearty, practical people 
remnin cheerful and doing through tremendous reverses lexcept here 
and there a n ru practical jn-rson shoots himself), and |>eople with whom 
ideas and affections bold the foremost place receive a deep impress of a 
melancholy sort. Not melancholy, quite ; Imt, of course, if your tun> 
of mind is such that you cnmiot see anything beautiful or beloved 
without at the same time remembering that /</>(/ /xitrr, then, when it does 
pass, the thought is a hundred times dee|iened, and so one proceeds 
loving and weeping from loss to loss, from shore to shore, till at last it 
all ends. And yet I would not be the hearty person. I think I see 
dee|>er and truer than they do, and that I am far more espalilo of 
mentally stretching forward, and almost laying hold on things out of 
sight. But i am not so uwful to my neighbour as the hearty one it. 

In ISW Mr. Holland was appointed to a canonry at Canterbury, 
and the remainder of his wife's life was divido<l l)etwoen the 
precincts of tho cathedral city and a country house at Harble- 
down, clos<' to her olil homo. Hero she had to meet the great 
sorrow of her life, the ileath of her younger daughter, Lucy. 
From childhood this bright anil attractive girl had siitl'ered from 
heart dissaae, and tho knowliHlge of the slender hold that she 
had on life gave a doe|)er pathos to the passionate affection 
between mother and child. "But O, the very reason why we 
clasp them is U-caiise they die ! " Tho severe winter of 188li 
prove<l too much for Lu<-y's fragile frame, and after six months 

July [), 1898.] 


of prolonged aiifferinf; she died on tho 3r<I of Sept«inbor kt 
Uni'l)ltiilown. On hitr tonilmtono in thu luvoly chiirohyurd of 
Go<ln)t!iiihani Imr heartbrokoii inotlutr wroto tlin words, Ihiminr 
lie morerin. For hi>r lifo rijulil nuvor lie th« Haniu a){nin. She atill 
lovod tliii tlowiim ami tlio l)inl», " the Inm, whitti liiiun of tlio 
hour iHjfore dnu-ii," " tho divino pallor of thii t«a-ro»o8 in tho 
t»'ili):;ht " ; but uvory changu cf soason brought bavk tho moniory 
of Lucy 'a step and of l.ucy'a voice. 

'I'he Im'II .striki>ii elcri'ii uh I writo, nml I bear tlin wktchmaii crying, 
" I'aitt clovoii o'clock, anil a inoonliKht, uiowy night. AU'a well." 
" Deo iirntiiu," I ruply in my heart of heartt, ami ntill anil alwaya I 
tliiuk of my nweet Luot', so |ui.sNionat('ly IotimI and lamciitol. 

An<l again : — 

Thf country a.s we lirovr almii,' tookrd wet ami wiM. Heapn of 
brown leitTes rakeil together uml rotting. liig calreH hu<lille<l umler the 
tree!!. The streamlet Hwellnl and running fa.^t. of drifting 
clouds in a yellow west sky. We arir going down into the darkest 
caves of winter. 'Inhere lies our roa<I, where two years ago mv liucy 
fainted liy the way, chillol to ilcntli in that long six months' winter of 
18!<(t. We hail to leate her as Jacob left his darling wife. She ilied in 
the way, and we had to journey on. 

Three years after her daughter's death Mrs. Holland joined the 
Koinnn Church. This step was tho result of many years of 
anxious thought, during which tho irresistible attraction which 
the old religion has for certain minds made itself over more 
increasingly felt. All her life she had teen a student of Port 
Royal writers and of the l>ost Kroncli divines, and after the move 
to Canterbury, tho presence of the .Icsuit College at Hales I'lace 
and tho friendship of such eminent Frenchmen as Count Albert 
de Mun and Pere du Lac naturally quickened her steps in this 
direction. " That religion," she wrote to her son in 1888, 
" with all that can be said against it, is the one religion to me, 
and I shall go a stranger all the days of my life in hac lacri/marum 
ralle indoss 1 tind my way into it." 

But this change of religion made little outwanl difference in 
Mrs. Holland's lifo. She still lovod hor children and carod for 
their welfare with tho same passionate tenderness, still tended the 
aick and poor wlio came in lior way. and still on winter evenings 
might 1)0 Soon sitting in tho dim cathedral transept, thinking 
of her lost child and listening to the smooth rise aiul fall of the 
Psalms which she lovod so well. And she found to her great comfort 
that tho stop which she had taken did not sejiarato her from her 
best friends. After a conversation at Freshwater with " the old 
poet " — Lord Tonny.son on tlio sidiject, she writes : — " It is 
delightfid to feel tho freedom and assurance with which one can 
talk to a distinguished intolloct ; no accommodations are neces- 
sary, one ha.1 only to bo ijuito and clear ami one is certain 
to be understood." And only four weeks before her own death, 
looking back upm tho stop which she had taken two years before, 
she wrote that all trace of pain had faded, and that nothing but 
a sort of fragrance now remained in her memory. When 
death came she welcomed it as the most gracious gift of Heaven. 
On the 28th of September, 18",H, Sibylla Holland wjis lim-iod by her 
daughter's side in that quiet country churchyard, where oven now 
the beechwoods are in radiant leaf and " the nightingales sing 
heart-piercing notes in the .silence of the early summer nights." 
Her wish had l)een fultilled — Encore uu moment et it «'»/ aura 
phi» de mioi pleiirer, e'ext noiin qui monrrons — elle ne mourra 


The chief fault of much modem philosophy is. [M-rhaps, its 
refusal to recognize the transcendental. Professor Seth, himself 
a distinguished philosophnr, has recently drawn att(>ntion to tho 
fact that religion and poetry probably approach more nearly to 
the essential truth of tho universe than the most accurate meta- 
physical dolinitions, expressed in logical terms ; and this fact, 
which woidd apply in some measure to such a concrete science as 
chemistry, which does apply even to mathematics in their last 
analysis, most certainly should come into the reckoning antl 
account of jwychology, a study which, if it is to be useful and 

III iiftM) 

« nior* 




• lit 


on Um 

• r. 

s of our 
is Mr. 

t f rmi--tiu 

f .lod 

illmnliMtiro, moat alao be esntloua, *»■ 
content itself with a hint when  pr 
t«mpting. Hut Mr. I.rttstor K. \V«r<L thu uui!. 
Soi'ioLoiiY (Mocmillun. 7». (3d.), find Mr ! 
Titchener, author of A Pkimi 
4s. Od.), have forgotten thu »U\ > 
III mijitrrium -and a* a conatNpiontw thoir 
troatiaea leave a somewhat uiuatiafoctory in.,.. 
mind. And even from the tciontilic ataiMliioint thorn aetiros ft 
good deal to btt duairtxl. To take an oxamplo. Mr. Ward uaaa 
throughout hia bcHik auch t«nna aa " roaaon," " int«lliKMKM," 
and '• art," without paying any attention to definitinn— that flrat 
requisite of any Kystom of knowledge. If Mr. Want aaaii^nii wmim 
eaoteric ' ' '« to the words in •!< lad 

to have i : mn, a«, lacking it. v. .ml 

his WiVhi 111 that religion is "reason applie<l t«> liiu. AihI on 
other |)ages we have a atrange confusion with reapwt to the word 
" art.'" Mr. Ward dooa not seem to lie aware that " art " ia a 
highly equivocal term, used in two entirely diatinct aenaea. A 
man may have an art or the art of sweeping a atreet, or of 
mixing mortar, or of piercing alatea for roofa, but he ia not 
therefore an artiat in any sense of the word. In the one 
" art " meana knack, skill ; in the other ii 
of beauty ; animals often have the one, but 

And here we touch on a subject where the 
authoia become |>ainf(dly ap^iarent. Hero, for ' 
Titchener's account of the origin of art : — 

In primitive time.* the body wan deeorateil wiili a >irw 
a mate, .lust as the male bini come.t out in 
(■airing season, so the savage ile<-or»te<l himself ^> 
feathers to make bis [lersOD attractive. Then, by slaw degrees, ilerora- 
tion travelled from [lerson to snrroundings : Bnt from the bdy to the 
clothes, and then again from clothes to boow. But aa the prmilive 
bouse is a rude structure, ami its owner poor, not moeh esn t<- done by 
way of iuiliviilual hoase ailomment ; and so we fti> <-n of a 

trilie dubbing together, so to speak, to decorate thi- uose, the 

temple. .Kstbetics now enters into the service of n-ligiou. 

And tho author goes on to say that the arts In general grew 
from the need exitericncoil for recruation ! People l>a<I to work 
in the helds, therefore they ha<I to play, and " plays " were the 
result. K<pially surprising are the remarka of Mr. Ward on tho 
leathetic faculty of animals. From the facta that bees fly more 
readily to certain flowers, that tho peacock has bright feathers, 
tho author infers that animals have a sonso of beauty. But it ia 
to bo presumed that Mr. Wani would not detluce the poaaessiou 
of the fosthetic faculty in engino-<lrivers liecauste an engine- 
driver always stops tho tniin when he sees a re<l lamp or a re<l 
flag, and yet the two cases are precisely similar. In each 
instance, the brilliant plumage of the bird, tlie bright petals of 
the flower, and the colour of tho lamp or flag are really wonls, 
with a 8|H)citic meaning, and the purpose in each case ia purely 
utilitarian. As it is desirable that the lice should be fe*! and 
that tho train should bo safe, symbols are proviikxl meaning 
" honey " and " danger "or " stop," and tho true iMSthetic 
sense has no concern whatever with either. 

It is perhaps hardly necessary to examine at length the 
" personal decoration " theory and the •' play " theory." Each 
is put forward in the terms of a mathematical ilemonstration ; 
each is, in reality, a very dotibtful hy)Mithe«i8. It is impossible 
to assign dogmatically any certain origin to art, but the moat 
probable source may be looked for in the poaseaaion by roan of a 
faculty of awe and ecstasy and wonder- -a facidty which is found 
in man alone. Demonstrably, tlie Greek drama aroae from the 
Dionj-siac ecstasy ; demonstrably, all the earlioat specimens of 
literature have in them that ap|H>al to the unknown, that aenae 
of a mysterious, magical world, separated from t ^ial 

world by thin |Mirtitions, which to the present ilay . !«• 

tine literature from tine reporting ; and we may thcri': : in a 

probable conclusion that all art springs from this oti.. i.,ciilty, 
this roali/.ation by man that he himself and the universe are 
alike mysterious. Mechanically, rationally, there is no reaaoD 
why ants should not build a Westminster Abbey, just as otbar 
creatures have built coral islands, for the '• art of build- 



[July y, 1898. 

iu|; '* t* eoMOMMi to muty •aiinal*. Bat to man alono building 
ia Ml •rt, to hiaa kloiM it i* girwi to form an imago of otnrnal 
beauty by (ymbol* of ctona atul colour ami wonU. I'syi-holog^- 
might ««U !••?• nagtoetoil an inano iy«t4>m nhicb vainly triea to 
•qiwt* Um hlUBMt tfo «rit}i the mainin of the bi«8ta, which deals 
ia rmgu*, uitdofiiMd, ami njuivitoal term*. It might find a nublor 
emplojinent in th« oxamiuation of the n<al ami cesontial man, in 
th« attompt to aouml those atwrvt depths from which arise all 
that ia impanant and all that is beautiful in the heart of Adam. 


Oaiety Chronicle*. By John Holllngshead. >. 5}in., 
WR pp. Ix>n<lon, ItOH. Constable. 21/- 

Mr. Uolliii(;sht>ad we know of old, ami always find more 
or 1««> amusing. But the moat amusing writer tied down 
to a ilull subject finds his haml 1 to that it works in, 

•mi theatrical records must U> > to liave much interest 

for the general. To be plain, Uie chronicles of the Guioty 
^W tl» which are here set forth with conscientious precision are 
bttt tediooa reading. Tlicre is too much starving up of old 
cabbage, too much qimting of Daily TtUtjiaph and other 
theatrical notice* (split infinitives and all), too much solemn 
recording at length of erent« that are tiresome in the relation. 
If it were not for Mr. Hollingshuad's frank revelation of an 
original and an engaging personality, the l)ook would be 
unendurable. Fortunately there is so much of the autlior in it 
that, on the whole, it is decide<]ly entertaining to those 
aoqaaint«l with the art of judicious " skipping." Mr. Hollings- 
head begins by modestly comi>aring hims«'lf to Shakespeare, who 
waa •' very little of an actor, but much of a commercial manager." 
n»o comparison holds goo«l a little further— both t^hakospcare 
and Mr. Hollingshea^l made a very good thing out of their 
■pecnlatinna. The poet bought the best house in Stratford-on- 
Atod and became a landed proprietor. Mr. Uollingshead began 
in 1868 with about £200 capital of his own, and between tlut 
date and lfl86, when he gave up the Gaiety, he had out of it 
aoroe £130,000 ! No manager before or since can have worke<l 
harder to make hia theatre pay. The list of pities he produced 
in th* »'ieht*««n years fills more than 17 closely printo<l pages. 
Th' the whole [leriod was close<l for only eighteen 

wee- ry of Mr. Hollingshea<rH unceasing efforts to 

keep tile ball rolling is a wonderful record of energetic 

The kind of entertainment particularly associated in the 
pablic mind with the Gaiety is the form of burlesque that ma<le 
the name of Miss Nellie Farren, clever Fred Leslie, Miss Kate 
Vaaghan, Mr. K<lward Terry, Mr. E. W. Royce, and Miss 
Connie Gilchrist, to mention only these. Wliat visicins of merry 
ereninga does this list of players conjure up! How wc smile 
at the remembrance of the - 

Quip* and cruilu and wanton wilea. 

Nodi and brrki and wrvnibid Kiiiilcit 

—of the tripping* on the light fantastic toe, of the flashes of 

M Wl il l l fent that were wont to set the theatre in a roar ! Alaa ! 

poor Yoriek. 

TIhi eartti hath liuhlilf.* «» the water baa 
And thrmt arr nf tbrm. 

An apt «|Uotation for the title-page, and one that sets us think- 
iog sadly, like poor doite<l Hhallow, of •' the days that wo have 
•een " and shall sm no more. The " sacre<l lamp," of which we 
naafl to hear so mn<-h, has flickt^etl to extinction, and musical 
oo«»edy, V • • ' turns " borrowe<l from the " halls," 

ita inaiit' . :«r, and its imitative liarrol-organ 

BialodiaB, wii 'md from uncritical audiences. 

Bat it w vfnrs of .Mr. Hollingshead's 

raiipi that th< ' «<jue " came into fashion. 

It is true that . there was " extravaganai," 

which was " like, but oh .' how different," atul consisted mainly 
of atmcioos puns. With this, however, was provided all other 
variviiMi of drama, from the legitimati' (i.^., acconiing to Mr. 
Hollingshead's definition, plays by dead authors which can be 

performed without fees) and from grand opera down to domestic 
pieces of the UncU Ukk'a Darlimj lyiH". In the 'sixties the 
latt4'r kind of entertiiinmont went down well, and it was by 
judicious mixtures of all sorts that the Ciaiuty manager attracted 
and kept his public. Full of rosourco and always on the look- 
out for frosh metho<ls ot advertisement (of which writing to the 
newsiiapera on every possible occasion waa one), Mr, Hollings- 
heatl never thought any novelty too novel, never neglect<,-<l any 
chance of making his programme more popular and his theatre 
lietter known. His resource was taxed and shown with brilliant 
success even lieforo the building was complete. .\n injunction 
was threatened by the Morning Potl, which complained that the 
theatre would Mock out some of its light and air. 

The kliell of the tbftatre bad got to a riTtain bcigbt without a pro- 
test being entered, but it bad to gu double that height to complete the 
drjiign, and this elevation, it wax thought, would overshadow the 
editorial roomn aud ofBces. lite uimiaging director and acting proprietor, 
Mr. .\lgenion Bortbwick (afterwards Sir Algernon Bortbiwck, aud now 
Lord (ileni'xk), wan a friendly opjionent. He waj> dealing with A brother 
new8|>aper proprietor, Mr. Liouel l.jiwRon ; and 1 was an old contributor 
of the paper, having been its Sp4*cial Coiiimisaioncr at the Kant Kud of 
London during the never-to-l>e-forgott«n famine year of IHCl. In spite, 
however, of thexe aofteuing influences, we mistrusted the legal adviMrs 
of the paper, when it came to a queftion of the rights of pro|>erty. A 
council of bricks and mortar was held, and it was <|uietly resolved to 
finish the objectionable i^art of the buibling iMffoi-f an interim injunction 
could be applie<l for. J'lans were laid, materials wiri! collected— Wricks, 
joists, ginlcrs, window-frames, and everything necessary wen; got ready. 
In daily newspapiT ofrir(*s, Satunlay is a liirn tion. From six o'clock on 
a Satunlay morning to about two o'clock on a Sunday aftenioun, the 
Morning Putt, it was known, was given up to a caretaker, who lud 
little more to do than to take rare of hims<'lf, ami answer one ur two 
reporters who might call for lettem. TbeJiea noii was seized ; a crowd 
i)f well-diaciplincd workmen attendtnl at daybreak on Sjiturdny morning, 
timbers wore laid, girders wen- put in position, bricks were piled up, 
mortar anil cement were trowelled into their proper spaces, window- 
frames were insei-twl, and by Sunday mid-day, when the editorial staff 
came to their <luties, to get ready for the Monday's issue, tbey looked 
out of their windows aud saw the objecrtionable block was completed, and 
far beyond the reach of any earthly vice-chancellor. .Vn action for 
damages was on the cards, but it was never set in motion, ami the 
injury to light ami air proved, after all, to bo less real than imaginary. 

It was at the Gaiety that the Comedie Fraiii,'ai8e appeared in 
187!) ; it was at the Gaiety that a play of Ibsen's was first 
jtresonted to a London audience (Mr. Archer's adaptation of 
Tlie rUlarf of Hucicly, given at a matinee in 1880) ; it was at the 
Gaiety that Thfgpia, the first of the series of what we have agreed 
to coll the Savoy oj)crettas, was produced ; it was Mr. Hollings- 
hcod who made the first public expuriiiieiit with electric light, 
and, in spito of Professor Krasmus Wilson's projOiecy in J878 
that very little more wouhl !« heard of this method of illumin- 
ating, the example set was before very long followed by public 
and private enterprise in every direction. 

There was plenty of room in the late 'sixties for improve- 
ments in London theatres. Uotlly built, badly lighted, uncom- 
fortable as nearly all were, ]^rvaded by an atmosphere which 
combined the smells of " escaped gas, orange peel, tom-cats, and 
mephitic vapours," thuy nee<1ed some innovator to show them 
how a really ought to Ix) constructed atid managed. 
The moment always prmluces the man, and to Mr. Hullingshead 
we owe a debt of gratitude for the fact that wo can now go to 
the play in comfort, oiu* nostrils unassailu<l by stale otlours of 
unspeakable coiniMtsition ; our tum|>crs untried (at all proiierly- 
conducted houses) by the piratical system of programme and 
other foes ; with a reasonalile amount of spiice to bestow our 
bo<lies ; and, so long as no monstrous feminine head-gear blocks 
our vision, with a full view of the whole stage. In alKilishing 
fees, Mr. Hollingshcad frankly avows that he was actuato<l not 
by philanthropy but by business instinct. 

I knew that I might rob a playgoer of a sovereign with impunity, 
but that I must not worry him for sixpemx*. That was my Udiof, and I 
acted up to it for eighte<-n year* without a misgiving. When tiill-gates 
were almliahn<l the tolbi reroaine<l, but they were not collected by 
stopping travellers with re«tive horses, or pulling them up in the middle 
of tbe night while the change bad to Is; counted out by the light of a 

July 9, 1808.] 

V^^M litit Mr. HollinKshead, tliou^'h he ndmitR thi< (IffucU of the 

^^^H 'Hixtiioi, will Hot hiiitr that iinf(>rtuniit« ]H)ri»iI (h.'critMl n* it in 

^^^H the fiiNliioti to <ht(<ry it now. You cortaitily ^ot a grout deal 

^^^H for your inonoy whuii you cliil go to thu thuntrx. From aix or 

^^^B half-piiHt six until ulomt on midnif;ht you sut watohing one pii>c» 

v^^M aft»r anuthor until your hrain fairly rt-oled. Then you wi>nt and 

«^^M had Ruppi'r, undiHturhod by an '' impot.silile and molly-co<1dlin); 

^^^B Act of I'arlianumt " pafisud hy devotttea of tho " alap-you-anil 

I put-you-to-btMl " modol of lo^'iHlution, If you wanted Honicthin^ 

liKJit, () '(( iinxle lH<(if wa.s tho disii ; wliiUi i:ho|xs and stoalcH, with 

Immt for thirsty throatii, ronuwud thu enorgibH of tho nioro robust 


The lifupi.Hetl " itlxtieii " bad their ai'tors niui actrcMOd of some little 
iiiiportanco, even if they wiru Ii'kh )iiitroiii/r<l or K|ioilt by " Aociul 
re<'i>gnili<>n. " Thi> w<'ll-ilrillo<l niwllnrrity of » later piTiod tli<i artor 
and ncliTM-H without a roportory — thu product rtololy of loiif; nu<l lal>oriouji 
robeiirsnls, wa.s not a iH'rceptilile quantity in tho " iiixli«.'i. " Mon' wa* 
tboufflit aliout tlio work of tbo t*tng<s even if the work ffa» Koniewhat 
i-onviMitinual, than the " Htatux " of the worker. Anpirationx wire 
bumlile and moile!«t. The " Tottie " of the " itixtii'» " (and every age 
and pi'riod liaH had its " Tottie.t ") wan contint with a su|>per of tripo 
and tabli-l»rr. and a fortnight's lioliilay at Margate or even (iruTcsend. 
Rvolution liail not done itH work. Tottie had not ri.'«-n to the beigblx of 
Monte Carlo, as .Monto Carlo then wa.<i as little known to the travelliuK 
mob aa the doureo of the Nile, or the place which Nansen has made a for- 
tune out of by not discovering. The t'afe Verrcy and the Cafe Koyal were 
nut her favourite "eating Iiousih " ; and nbe eould not turn up her 
pretty little nose at a unitfii^ tie roluilU- iiu.r trnffm, if it wax a little 
" touched " by the oven, or think her " extra sec " was " corked," 
and say so, if she saw a fragment of cork floating in the goblet. She 
was scddoni or never brought in contact with such ** society " luxuries. 
Her wildest <lreani was a late supper at a boiled-beef houae or a Sunday 
dinner at " Clunn's " or " Evans'. " 

In short, .Mr. Holliiigshoad stands forth to do combat with 
all tho dotractors of tho 'sixties, including Mr. Pinero, whoso 
picture of tho players of the period in Trelawny of the H'elU is 
novertholtiRS very like that whicli is drawn in tho iwissnflo just 
quoted. One custom, however, even Mr. Hollinf;slioad can 
find nothing; to excuse, anil that was tho custom of " iMJiictits." 
Not oidy did they put " //i<' profession " on tho level of m<uuito- 
Imnks (where some inikiiul people would still keep it), but they 
woro often held to excuse vury slovenly acting and such revolting 
attempts to be funny as Sothern's playing of Othollo d la Lord 
Dundreary— a piece of \'ulgar butl'oonory which fortunately 
roused tho long-suffering public to vigorous disapprolwtion. 
The benetit .system implied either that the actor couhl not make 
a living out of his wage.s (which even then was seldom the cise, 
and to-diiy would be ludicrous), or that ho intentlcd to make as 
much as possible out of his popularity by sending round tho hat 
whenever ho could. 

Of the author.*! and players with whom he had to deal Mr. 
Holliiigshead has often something interesting to tell. There are 
a nmnl)er of capital letters from Charles Keade — very charac- 
teristic and very amusing. " I have by me," ho wrote in 1874, 
" such a collection of masterpieces, great and small, as I think 
no writer of reputation ever yet kept by him without finding a 
market " ; and ho adds, in the .style of a commercial circular, 
that of short pieces he is tho cheapest author going ! Ill-natured 
gossip that too often forms the staple of theatrical voliunes is 
severely excluded from this one. Jlany people would like to 
have the information for which a Cambridge undergraduate— a 
.lohnian of all people— wrote in 1872 : — 

I take the lil>erty of asking you to supply me by return of p««t 
with some information reganling the private life of actors and actress 
fjtiVl, whether moral or otherwise, as a rule : also the names of two or 
tbi-ee whom you consider the Iwst tragic actors. Whether you think it 
woulil jMiy to put a more classical and relincil kinil of i)lay on the 
boards than there is at jiresont : the class from which actors and 
actres-ses are generally taken : your opinion as to the power of the stage 
to elevate or the sentiments of the nation. I want this informa- 
tion for a debate here on Tuesday evening. Hoping you [tie] send me 
some answers to these q\ic5tious. 

Etc. , etc. 
But whatever his experience may have taught him upon that 
nmch-del)atetl question" whether moral or otherwise, as a rule" 
— Mr. Holliiigshead wi.sely keeps it to himself. 


Tho b«>ok ii full of portrait* of all ond •.iin''n' who hav* 

lieen notably ' with tin- 

them in i'tr JJailimj 

Mr. H. U. Irving ut the preaiint time, wh 

tho photograph of .Mr. Dion Boucicn--'' 

urtlinary resemblanco to Mr. Dioti K 

in tho part he ia w ' 

Among the host ' ' 

Were sure to eaca|H: notii.. llul " ' 

tenor, might have iitfr'trt«»il i-ven n 

while " Lo|M-7. " i\' 
the cabinet-Ti'akir f 
called for 

. ..U 


t should Iw 


In the HiMToBV op Kn-<;i..ind rouTHBUas or Midulb foitiia 
IN- S111001..S, Part II., from the Accession of Henry VIII. to the 
Kovolutioji of lOStt (London, I...ii m m.* -'s fnl 1, Profeaaor Tout 
completes the school history : If ami Professor 

York Powell. It is a useful aim I... I...L, _,-„,, ' —•- ,. 

pares roost favourably with such text-books a 

to which schoolboys were g' . " v 

years ago. TheHoformation I' 

haps tho best chapt»<rs are those <■; 1, 

of our colonies. Professor Tout is • •, 

GSi)ecially on Chorles I. It is scarcely fair to preface an account 
of tho attacks on the Constitution by James II. with the remark 
that '• ho was now treading in his father's footsteps " ; but thia 
I>artiality does not blind tho writer to the errors of the Long 
Parliament. In such i>ook8 it is, of coiine, a rnoet difficult 
problem to combine tho necessary oon.' : with a flowing 

and agreeable style ; and in this respe t Tout ia fairly 

successful, though ho is too fond of < nd occasionally 

unguardwl in their use. ''The mor :m " d'^nbtlcsa 

balances well with '' tho pious Fox " in tli. t. 

unfortunately, this description of the 1 .n 

Primato is flatly at variance with his character as portrayed for 
us by Erasmus in an intt-rosting letter. Kton boys, too, might 
l>e entertained by such a phrase as "the disreputable Eton 
schoolmaster," which is applie<l to Nicholas Vdal, an ' '■ ' 
entirely unexplaine<l ; but a careful writer like Henrv .M 
in speaking of I'dal, attributes to theologic hatre<1  
imputations that would have ruined him for lifo hn<l ■, 

true." Such V ' ' 
fre<|uent. An 1 

and plans of iin|Kirtniit battles : and th< 
include not only Koyal, but tho • 
English nobles of the period. 

We are gla<l to welcome Mr. J. C. Neafield's Historkal 
EsoLLsii AND Dbbiv.\tiox (Macmillan, S». Cd.), tho best 
handlwok of historical English, in clearness of arrangement, 
avoidance of error, and in practical worth, t! ' ' ' ' 
met with. Tliere is a fault not uncommon i 
for India, or by English ! in India, ii^ • 

infornuktion and many oi : -i«ari.iitit' 

men. This fault is 
destined to become ; 

higher forms of schools. It is {>ro. ,.es and a selec- 
tion from questions set at tho lion.i '.ion. 

Dr. Alexander Robertson, author of Tirr Hiiuf. or f»T. 
M.VKK (.Mien. 10s. M. n.), has written a c io-book to 

the wonderful series of sculptures and mo8,t.<- ...,,.;. adorn the 
groat chiuvh of Venice. The book is well illustrate*! by a acritw 
of excellent photogr.»phs, from which o: ' ' ' '. 

tho dignity and. indeed, majesty of the 
Hyzantiiim by the Dogo Orscolo, and soon ij.:- 
Perhaps Dr. Robertson has written a lit. 
subject-matter ; he commcntji sometimes at 
incidents representetl, when a simple citation 




[July 9, 1898. 

Mr. Murk liani tui recently published n little houk on Thk 
Pkotikb)! or NoKTiiAMMtiNSHiBE (NorthaniptoD : Stanton, Is. 
n.)- Much lnt«reiit attaches t« tliuHC loci>l liieln, wliich often 
chronicle aoinc uuriotm event ur custom. Tlie N'orthnmptonBhire 
folk, bowerar, hardly seem to come up to the ideal descrilied by 
Lord Neftrw. 

In >»' I 'in »«}'«, 

Wh- : I'-h w*< ttint<r<l - 

Wbra if* moiil trarh u><l fewer prearh, 
AM )»>o)i« wi-rc not yet print<Hl — 

'l>oii(fat, bjr tmidrnrv taught, 
i|»unilr<l : 
Airi piuwilK uffr, (n>Di age to •(•« 
In rTrr7 mouth abounded. 
ApparMitly the prorerlw about om- town were sometimes 
BmI* bjr • je«ions neighliour in another, tlins we get : — 
Rockingham, poor p<>o|ilr, 
Nadjr town, nutlr down. 
One m, woo<lm (ttvplr. 

But, on the other hami, Mr. Markham <|Uotes from Mr. J. O. 
Hslliireli'a-book a pleasant little rhyme for King's Sutton : — 

ReMdr. r 

Whw aivi >tore. 

Pretty maidiw plenty : 
da a ■•■ desire mnn- y 
Tkne aia't sopIi > 
4 MMamiglitdMireeameUii: last line, but it is 

• (air eSMBpl* of Mr. Markham's collection. 

t«ct* would hare been suilivient ; iuhI it would bave been 
intecwting if be «ndd have pr-'  •■••' '"« l"'"k by a monograph 
oa moaaic work, which is no« to the decoration 

of St. Paul's Cathmlral with muh >.iii-...ii..ry results. How- 
•T«r, in the form that he has civon it. the " Bible of ."^t. 
Mark " should be ren<i ' «hile to 

those who wish to set- : ' series 

of |>lat«a will be inralu... . 

In W1U.0W AJto 1 I I 111' \- Is.) Mr. E. V. 

Luoaa givoa us some gill ji]' ..i tii, .le <if the n.itional 

f mn. dtmwing liM(tiration for his quumt sitetcbeii from those 
flelda of eridcet which may U- . M^t^nil without |>nying toll, 
and whvre the players are not g' 1 to be dull. He shows, 

too, how much more there is in .,....< c liian the mere making of 
raus, bowling of wickets, and catching of catches, sihI gives us 
many amwiing and sometimee pathetic sidelights on tlie game. 
At timea, in the falnaaa of his heart, he even break.* into verse. 
** Lore in the Meadow " is one of the l>est cricketing ditties 

we have seen : 

The Bat sings : 
Hj loTs is re<l ms a ilamaak rose, 

Ad<I lorrn true are we, 
Thoogh ever 1 rtrire to belabour her, 

Aixl hlH- to outwit Die ; 
And yet alone wv pine and moan. 

We cannot rrjoire at all. 
For what ii a ball without a bat, 

()r a bat wiUiout a ball ? 

We nerer embrace, but we often kiss, 

TTe only meet to part : 
Tbe farther away I ipeed my love, 

llie glad<ler I am at heart : 
And glad i» nhe t« torture me, 

Qiadder to sec me fall, 
Yet great is the lore of the ball for tbe liat 

Aad the lore of the bat for the Ull ! 

Her tkin is rough as a Ribstoo red. 

Her heart is O so hard ! 
Ao<l enemy -like ilie plots snd pisns 

To catch me off my goanl ; 
Yet she is tbe only lore I lore. 

And I sm her all in sll : 
And stranger thing on the earth'* not seen 

Than the Bairfagti of bat and hall. 

TI»o now u<lition of Mr. D. C. nmmson's'.stratkh 
Catalooi'I! of thk " T.\TB (J.\LLKKV " ((kl.) hiis just l>peu issuod 
from the Art Journal oflice. For those who have leisure and 
inclination for somothinK more than is contjtined in this usufid 
little book wo woubl call attention to tbe fact that Mr. B. T. 
Cook, in a fifth edition, recently publishml.of his well-known and 
inraluablo Popii.ak Hamhiook to thk National Gai.i.krv (Mac- 
millan, H«.), has advisedly retained all reforoncosto the pictures 
which have )>a.sRod from the National to the Tuto Gallery. Quito 
apart, theroforo, from the notices of {mrticular aeliools of art 
given by Mr. Cook, which are of general interest for art students, 
his handbook should certainly be studied by those art students 
in particular who fri-quent the new gallery at Millbank. 

PRACTtrr- l'"^""M, by William Do Witt Hyde, President 
of Bowdoin 1 n-niillnn, 5s.), is a favourable specimen of 

a class of lite ; which there seems to be more demand in 

America than among ourselves. Without making any pretence 
to originality. .Mr. Hyde attempts to present the principles of 
Hegelian idealism, in so far as they bear ujKin the problems of ethics 
and religion, in such a way as to interest tlfoso who cannot make a 
special study of philosophy and yet care to know what its general 
attitude on those important questions is. The exposition is 
always lucid and sometimes eloquent. The whole work may be 
said to be a commentary on the principle enunciated in the 
" Introduction " :-- 

There are no worlds ready-made for sale or to let. Eiioh man must 
build hi» own. . . . We live by foith in a world-order ; and that 
world-order i« au nffsir of our own construction. 

We go through the stages of this process of world-making, from 
the first crude judgments of sense perception to the religious con- 
eeptimi of the world as the product of a single righteous and 
intelligent principle. Under the head of the "Natural World " 
Mr. Hyde (leEcribes the worlds of everj'day thinking, of natural 
science, and of art, while on the realms of morality and religion 
he bestows the higher title of the " .Sniritual World." This 
relegation of science and art to the lower level of the " natural " 
worhl is i>orhaps the most serious defect in the book. For science 
and art, every whit as much as morality, imply a system of social 
relations as the first condition of their exi.stonce, and art, at any 
rate, has for its subject-matter external realities touched and 
transfigured by human emotion, and may therefore fairly 
challenge, at least from the Hegelian, a place in the " spiritual " 
worli). It might also be doubted whether the discussion of 
" Persons " and their mutual claims mi one another should come 
before the consideration of " Institutions " and the traditional 
morality which they embody. It is only when we p.iss from tlie 
merely •' institutional " forms of ethics to " morality " — reflec- 
tive and s<df-conscious ethical endeavoiu" — that we can be said to 
1)0 in a world of genuine persons. No doubt Mr. Hyde knows 
lietter than tolieliove, as the framers of the .social contract theory 
did, that [lersoiis come first in the develo]>meiit of society and 
institutions aft<!rwards, hut the mistake is one which his 
arrangement might easily suggest to an iinwory reoder. The 
chapter on " Keligion " would have gained in value if the author 
had att4'mpt<><l to aiialysu more fully the coiniiinn element of 
experience which underlies the various forms of religious liclief, 
insteatl of merely jiroviding a philosophic interpretation of 
evangelical Christianity. 

Those who possess the new edition of " Lea Cinq Livres do 
la I/Oi, ])ul>lieu en cai *' ' obraiqiies h Conslaiitinople, eu 
1647, tranfcrite ot ai < ■• d'une introduction, d'nn cIoh- 

saire. et il'un fncsimiUM .>iii. i.iv, I^eyilen)," by A. C. HeBseling, 
will do well t'l get Dr. Lazare IVdli'liV pamiililet. La A'kkrion 
Nt;o-Gi<K' ■■' ' '•' l'KNTATKt't)t'K I'oi.Ycji.oiTi: (Durlnclier, 2f.). In 
it are  uid illuHtrated two statements - (1) That the 

version i- , ni is worth editing, because the author shows a 

complete igimrance of literary (Jroek. and therefore the work is of 
value for tlie knowledge of popular <Irock in the 16tli century ; 
and CJ) that the preH«-nt editor has no suflicient knowledge of 
modern Greek, and has in conKoquenco made a largo number of 
mistakoN. The examples given make it abundantly clear that the 
latter cimtention in true. Dr. Iielli<li point-* out in aildition that the 
trnnscrilwr has often erred tliroii(,'h forgetting that certain voiced 
and breathed nounds are confuned by Juwi.^h speakers. He briefly 
indicates other ilmiilrTaia in the new edition which he recom- 
mends a more complete account of the HobrniHins, and somo 
device by which the ioa<ler may Im! made at once aware when he 
comes across them. It is certain that the Greek scholar who 
knows no Hebrew wi'i '■'• '"Mch niinled if ho tru.fts to Mr. 
Hesseling's edition. 

July !», IH!I8.] 





nfiicalli till' vans of (l(K)in did iih'Ii jiass in. 

Heroic who cnnif otit ; for i-ound them liunf; 

A wavprinj; phantoin'H red volcano tongue, 
VVitli leaf:;nf-li)n^ li/ard tail and fishy tin : 


Old Karth's orif;inai Drai^ou; there retired 
To his last fastness; overthrown hy few. 
llini a laborious tiiriist of roadway slew. 

Then nmn to jilay devorant straight was tired. 


More intimate became the forest fear. 

While |)illaretl darkness hatched malicious life 
At either ell)ow, wolf or gnome or knife ; 

And wary slid the glance from ear to ear. 


In chillness, like a clouded lantern-ray, 

The forest's heart of fog on mossed morass, 
On purjile pool and silky cotton-grass, 

Kevealed where lured the swallower byway. 


Dead outlook, flattened back with hard rebound 
Oft" walls of distance, left each mounted height. 
It seemed a giant hag-fiend, chuniing spite 

Of humble human being, held the ground. 


Through friendless wastes, through treacherous 
woodland, slow 
The feet sustained by track of feet jiursued 
Pained steps, and found the common brotherhood 

By sign of Heaven indifferent. Nature foe. 


Anon a mason's work amazed the sight, 

And long-frocked men, called IJrothers, there 

They pointed up, bowed head, and dug and sowed ; 

Whereof was shelter, loaf, and warm firelight. 


What words they taught were nails to scratch the 

Henignant works explained the chanting hroo<l. 

Their monastery lit black solitude. 
As one might think a star that heavenward led. 


Uprose a fairer nest for weaty feet, 

lAke some gold flower nightly inward riirled. 
Where gentle maidens fled a roaring world. 

Or played with it, and had their white retreat. 


into big books of metal clasps they pored. 

They governed, even as men ; tliey welcomed lays. 

Tiie treasures women are whose aim is praise. 
Was shown in them: the (iarden half restored. 

A deluge billow iu>nur<v1 the Intwl off !m»h«. 

With wid ', foam. 

For fixKl, : _. ^ ome. 

The leiwter Havage ottered bog» and tre^K. 


Whence re\> 
And inm>> 


Aft temple.s und>T beams of triaU bygone; 
For in them sang brave times •■ ■•' >'r<-' ••■ • '•—:■ 


Till now trim homesteads Iwnlered tijui ^ 

Like night'H little 8tan< through clearing 

Wa« nimoure<l how a castle's falcon towers 

The wilderness commanded with fierce mien. 


Therein a .serious Baron stuck his lance; 

For min.strel songs a beauteous Dame would {tout. 

(Jay knights and sombre, felon  " ', 
Pricked onward, lK)und for their tii iiiance. 


It might be that two errant lords across 
The block of ea>-h • '-ry 

They chargetl fort 1 y. 

( )ne rode his way, one couched on c|uiet moss. 


Perchance a lady sw"  ' n. 

The robbers into ^. ». 

Swift should her hero come, like lightning's blue! 

She i.vMVi'iI fur )nm, as Crackling droui:''* f'"" i:iin 


As we, that ere the worst her hero haps, 
Of .\ngels guided, nigh that loathly den : 
A toady ca\e beside an ague fen. 

Where long forlorn the lone dog whine.* and yaps. 


By daylight now the forest fear could read 
Itself, and at new wonders chuckling went. 
Straight for the roebuck's neck the bowman spent 

A dart that laughed at distance and at speed. 


Kight loud the bugle's hallali elate 

Rang forth of merry dingles round the tors; 
And deftest hand was he from foreign wars. 

But soon he hailed the home-hre<f ytniman mate. 


Before the blackbird j)ecked the turf they woke ; 

At dawn the deer's wet nostrils blew their la,«t. 

To forest, haunt of nms and prime rejiast. 
With paying blows, the yokel strained his yoke. 


The city uri-imi iiinonefl on fori'-i air. 

On gra.«sy swe<'ps and tlyine arrows, thick 

As swallows o'l- i him sick 

For thinking tha; ,e. 



LITKHATl hi:. 

r.hilv :>, 1898. 

XX ri. 

Familiar, still unseixwl. the forest !<]ining 
All oKl-world echo, like no mortal thin<». 
Tlie hiintrr's horn might wind a jocund ring, 

But held in ear it had a chilly clang. 


Some shallow lurketl aKtof of ancient time; 
Some warning haunted any sound prolonged 
As though the leagues of woodland held them 

To hear an axe and see a township climb. 


The foresCs erewhile emperor at eve 

Had »   -n lowert'd heavens drummed for J 


At ni. a small i)eopU' danced the dales, 

So thin that they might dwindle through a sieve. 


Hii^ ins told of them, and in their throats, 

< ' it gathered herbs and knew too mucli. 

The {lensioned forester beside his crutch, 

Struck showers from embers at those baleful notes. 


Came then the one, all ear, all eye, all heart ; 

Devourer, and insensibly devoured ; 

In whom the city over forest flowereil. 
The forest wreathed the city's drama-mart. 


Tliere found he in new form that Dragon old. 
From tanglcnl solitudes expelled ; and taught 
How blindly each its antidote besought ; 

For either's breath the needs of either told. 


Now deep in woods, with song no sermon's drone. 
He showed what charm the human concourse works : 
Aniiil --■ of men, what virtue lurks 

Where :  u-red wells of wildness lone. 


Our conquest these : if haply we retain 
The !■  that ne'er will overrun 

Due i -s of realms from Nature won. 

Nor let tiie poet's awe in ra])ture wane. 


Hntono tn^ Books 


As I sUiiid al my writing-table here in tiie old 
window of the Deanery library musing of the books, about 
which, ]ierliap«, presently I shall write, ray eye wanders 
into the little sunlit court outside. It is the old ohai>el 
garth of my fourteenth century i)redecessor, the I'rior 
John of Crauden. That is his famous chantry — " novam 

' '' ''<■ comer of the 

' _\ond and across 

thi" low-lying flats whi«!b stretch away to the distant downs 

of Newmarket. There, too, hidden by the lilac tree whose 

«iiiti' oiossonis are filling my room wnii iragniin'e and 
scattering tlieir snow on the little ])atcli of smootlily- 
mown grass below, is the basement of the Prior's new 
l>arlour. where he was accustomed to tjilk with the 
convent brothers, and close by is his liookroom, the 
" stadium suum j)ro libris cum sibi vacaverat in- 
spiciendis," ol which we may read in the convent 
reconls. The jmrlour itself was pulle<l down, alas ! not 
so many years ago, but the grand old fireplace, in the 
eastern wall of what is now a modern passage-way, still 
remains. Here Prior John must have often toasted his toes 
all those years ago, and read his Ixjoks, and fallen asleep, 
I dare say, sometimes, lulled by the cawing of the rooks in 
tiie Palace garden across the way, and awakened, no doubt 
with a start, to hear the minster bells calling the brethren to 
evensong. Or was it, ])erliaps, that chattering jackdaw that 
disturbed the Prior's slumber? There the fellow is still on 
the ri<lge of the cha{)el roof, silhouetted black against the 
blue sky, chattering still, and flirting and casting eyes 
now upwards at the Hisliop's rooks, as they sail overhead, 
now downwards at the Grammar-master's cat, as she basks 
in the sun on the garden wall. 

Below, in the shadow of the grouped buttress and 
turret stair, I see the door through which so often, five 
centuries ago, my Benedictine brother must have come 
on his way to the daily offices in the minster church. 
The covered wooden gallery along which he came, and by 
which he crossed above the chapel garth, has been 
destroyed for many a day, but the turret doorway at the 
comer of the Fair Hall, to which this gallery ran, is still 
visible in the ivy-covered wall. 

It was only the other night that, writing late, 1 heard 
a footstep outside echoing in the little court below, and 
for a moment almost tliought it was the old Prior himself 
on his way to early matins. ''Half past twelve o'clock. 
Fine clear night. All's well ! " droned out the college 
watchman. For, among other old customs, that 
" <lrow8y clmrm 
Hlessinp; our doors from nightly lianu," 

we still retain at Ely. But had it been the ghost of 
Prior John himself about to lift the latch of this old door 
in the deanery wall, at my elbow, as I write, I think 
I should have greeted him (|uite calmly, "Dominus 
custodiat introitum tuum ! " He would have answered 
surr-ly as c^ilmly, " Ex hoc nunc, carissime I et us<|ue in 
seculum." For he is a courteous old gentleman, as 1 know. 
I have watched the changing smiles on his face, for nearly 
four years now, as he looks down upon me daily, as I enter 
the choir, from his sculptured portrait at the end of the 
choir-aisle. A strong, handsome face it is — dignified, 
IxMiignant, jjlejisant — altogether that of a man who might 
well \h' tiueen Philippa's friend, as the chronicler says, 
" propter aniabilem et graciosam ipsius affabilitatem et 
eloi)uentiam,*'and who could also rule the convent with all 
firmness, yet *' sicut jjastor jiacificus," witli the sweet 
reasonableness (" dulcedine ") of our holy religion. 

But what the books were that Prior John read hy iiis 
study fire I cannot certainly say. Of the dozen btxiks or 
HO which Sir Henry Spelman, in his " Anti(|uarii CJollec- 
tanea," says were in the convent lii)rary at Ely, I should 

July !), 1898.] 



liazard a gueHs that two at leaxt would t)e often found in 
Prior John's bookroom — the "Book of Varietieit," by 

( "aMsiodonis, and tlip "Do Arfhitcc'tiim" of \'ifruviuK. 
'i'his last was tlie stanthud clasbical book on arcliitecture, 
and its chapters on the meciianica! jtowenj and on 
inH( liiiics for niisinjj l)iiil(h'ii!i niiitirials tn fjri'at hoij,'hts 
oiif would imagine must often have Im-cu lon.sulteil by 
llie Prior and his fiiend the Sacrist, Alan de Walsing- 
ham — -"Flos operatoriiin, vir venernbili*), et artitieiosiis 
I'Vater" — in the many eonstructional problems that 
must have puzzled them lx)th before the great lantern 
dome was successfidly thrown across the octagon at 
Kly, in the year 13;J4. Hut the "Liber Variorum" 
(if Cassiodorus was probably the liook which was oflenest 
found on John of Crauden's knees. For to this 
Itidiiiii statesman-monk of the sixth century literature 
is largely indebted for the fact that from his time 
onward the multiplication of MSS. liooks became one 
of the recognized duties of the monastic life. And cer- 
tainly there was no part of the discipline of the great 
Benedictine House at Ely. under Crauden's rule, which 
was more zealously performed than this. Witness the 
Obedientiary rolls of the Precentor, who was also the 
convent "'annarius" or librarian, for all the years of the 
fourteenth century. Here are some of the entries : — 

A.i>. 130(). 5 (lozi-n of piirchment, 28. M. 40 lbs. of ink (in 
causti), -Is. 4(1. A clork at a Iialf-ivmny a day. A IJook of tlio 
l)i>(;ietals l)ought for the Liliiary, Us. 2 11)8. of tlio grains of 
paradise. 48. Beer for the ink, for one year, !kl. "Fro taiiilu 
/'rt.«rii/i,</(ir: rfc (101-0(7 ilhi)iiiiiainl," 4b. Sjieculiim (Ircijitv, 28.-  
l:{'29. Half H pound of verniz, "pro Scrlptore mfo," Cd. The 
Procontor going to Bulsham to on(|uire for books, (5a. 7d.- -1361. 
6 (luatcinis jtiipiiri, 28. 1 gall : Vini <k creti, 38. 4 lbs. corporaso. 
4 lbs. of galls, 2 lbs. of gum arab ; 3s. 4<1. to make ink. — 1:172. 
8 calf skins and 4 sheep skins, for covering books, 48. 4(1.-1374. 
Ilhitninatiiig a gradual and consuetudinary, 228. i)d. Tyssucs and 
HMnloiiiio.s pro divorsis libri.s, 2.i. Roln-rto Pachymyncr do 
Oantalirigia pro percamouo do prodictis |H)llibus faciondo, 2l8. 
The Amanuonsis for one year, 53s. Id., and a tunic, l()s. — 1390. 
Brother Edm : IVdyngtou, upon his beginning tlm Bible " iit in 2 
AnrjitiUix Mlns: ciitfiH," Kkl. 'I'lie bookbinder 2 weeks wages, 
4s. 12 iron chains to fasten the books, 48. 6 doz : vellum, 
25s. 8d. 

Another interesting entry aliout the convent books is 
this letter in French from the Prior and Convent of Ely 
to the King (Edward III.) :— 

Because a robber has taken out of our cbunOi four books 
of great value, uamoly, the Decrotum, Decretals, Bible, and 
Concordance, of which the three are now at Paris, arrest«>d 
and detained under sequestration by the officer of the Bishop of 
Paris, whom our Proctor has often prayed in form of law to 
deliver them, but he behaves so strangely that we shall find in 
him neither right, grace, nor favour : we ask you to writ« tt> 
tile Bishop of Paris to intemieddle favourably and tell his ollicial 
to do aright, so that wo may get our things back. 

Altogether, as an evidence of industry in the making of 
books, it is worth notice that in the course of a few years, 
about the mi(Ul]e of the fourteenth century, the convent 
librarian purchased ujiwards of seventy dozen of parch- 
ment and thirty dozen of vellum for the use of the Ely 

But Prior Crauden was a patron of learnini,' in other 
ways than in the manufacture of MSS. About the year 

1340 he Ik...^ .-, ... i ^. ,. 

inonkii — on the fiite of the preM-nl Trinitv KnII -iind <n»nt 
th" '.I the coir 'ter 

iiiij - lit in I I ..^ '.„,,■ ...iiu« 

KoIIh from this time onwards nhow that thn-** or four of the 
Ely monks were constantly i .-at tin- 
Convent exj)en»p, taking th( s-'- ; ;"d then 

returning to Kly. For example, in tlie Chnndj.Tlain*i» 
Roll for the fortieth year of P^lward HI -h that 

would be more than twenty year* after i » death 

in 1341), I find thia entry:— "40 KiivnrA MI.. Solot' 
;{ !^;olar' studentibu.i apud C ,,ni 

de Banham incipienti in Ti. . ,, ...; ao 

onwards down to 1445, there are regular entries of the 
annual iiayment for two Ely scholars prre -n their 

degrees at Cambridge. One of the lau . . . jrdu in 
which the monk's name is mentioned is this from the 
Roll of the 9 Henry IV. :— " dat' ffratri (talfrido 
Welyngton ad incejK-ioncni .mmm in Cnnnne luiinl i'na- 
tabrig' vi. a. viii. d." 

What has been the early debt of the University of 

Cambridge to the Bishops and to the P- - ' ' ' - - 1 of 

Ely — the first Cambridge College, Pet. Ictl 

by an Ely Bishop, Hugo de lialsham, in 1284, and the 
Fellows of Peterhoase were long known a.s " EI- '-^ ' ' .r« " 
— all men know or may read of it in .Mr. IVas.^ r's 

History of that I'niveroity, but at the present moment, 
when the Senate of the I'niversity has just n- ' ' ' v a 
large majority a grace proposing to recognize Si . .d's 

House — the Hostel of the modem B«'ne<lictine«— -as an 
integral jwirt of the I'niversity, it is interesting to know 
that a somewhat analogous difficulty wn» solve<l in the 
fourteenth century with etjual satisfaction ap|>arently to 
lx>th the " Glonierels" and the scholars. Among the Ely 
Kolls there i.s a pai>er l>ook with a i>archment cover, 
written in a hand of tiie fifteenth century, entitled 
" Hegistrum Domini Edmundi Walsingham Prions 
Eliensis."' It contains copies of some sixty-nine letters of 
imjjortance to the Convent, some written long before Prior 
Edmund's time, some after his deatii and during the time of 
his successor. Among them are two letters having to do 
with this Cambridge difficulty. They are lx)th written to the 
Prior of Ely by the Abbott William of Bury St. Edmund, 
"Pro\'incialis Capituli Pnesidens" (i.e.. President of the 
Chapter ofthe Benedictine Order in England), calling ujwn 
him to ap|ioint a suitable })orson to act as Prior to the Bene- 
dictine monks who might be studying at Cambridge. This 
Prior of students api)oars to have been > t a century 

afterwards we find, both at Oxfonl ;i.... bridge, this 

officer, a doctor in the respective faculties of theologj- and 
canon law, recognized as part of the regular academic 

By far the most interei<ting, however, of the early 
M.S. books at Kly is the famous •' Liber Eliensis." It 
was written by a monk of El; ■"• . ul,o lived 

in the reign of Henry II., ni ^ ,i authority 

for all the events in connexion with the conquest of the 
isle by William the Confjueror. used by Freeman in his 
history, and still better knowTi. I suj^wse. as the (]uarrv 



[.Inly ;>. 1808. 

from which Cliarles Kingsley dug the iiu-ts upon which he 
l>as«>(l nil the adventurous story of the lat>t stand of the 
under •• Hereward the Wake." lUit of that 
. iiid all tlie otlier legends of the Kly Inxik — tlie 
mirac-le of St. Awdrey's chains (which gave the word 
" tawdry " to the Knfjlisli liin^unjje) ; tlie Buttlf of Maiden, 
and the dentil of the I'jirl Hrihtiioth, that Homeric hero 
whosie death-words, " God of nations ! I thank thee for all 
the joy 1 havo had in life." .•itil! rings down the centuries; 
the visit of King t'auute to the nioniu>itery, and ids song 
*• Merry sang the monks of Ely," and nmny another early 
English legend, I must leave for another article. For 
the afternoon bells are ringing for the ^Iin^ter service, and 
the Dean of Ely must never forget the obligation — the 
('athe«lral atatutt-s would reniin<l him, if his own inclina- 
tion could ever fail — expresswl in tiie worils wliicli .lolin 
Milton, having then just taken his Master's Degree at 
Cambridge, wrote of Ely Minster: — 

Let my tliio foot nevur fail 
To walk the studious cloister's palu, 
And love tlie higli cinl)owo<l roof, 
Witli anti(}Uo pill.irs mossy proof, 
And storied windows riclily dight 
Costing a dim, religious light. 
Tlioro K't tlie pealing organ blow 
To the full voice<l <iuiro bulow, 
In service high and anthems clear, 
As may with sweetness through mine ear, 
Dissolve nie into ecstasies, 
And bring all Heaven )>oforc mine eyes. 



|Bv A. E. W. MASON.J 

This is not my story. It was told to mu by .lames Walker 
in the cabin of a sis-ton ctitt«r one night that we lay andiororl 
in the little hay of Poljierro, and I think it was the lonely swish 
of the tide against the planks which provoked him to toll it. 
For it is the story of a man's loneliness and the grip which his 
loneliness got on him. James Walker took half an hour and 
three glasses of whisky before he could make up his mind to 
relate what he knew of Hattoras' career. Then ho lit-gaii it twice. 
I thought at first he was merely working up the excitement, but I 
changed my mind later on. However, let the story speak for itself. 

Uatteraa and Walker were schoolfellows, though not class- 
mates, tincu Hatteras was at the top of the school with scholar- 
ship*, and Fellowships and the port wine of Common Kooins 
ahead of him. Hatferas /"•/»•, however, disorganiwxl his son's 
fut- ng into the Biinkriiptoy Court two 

m'M was to have matriculated at Oxford. 

Tlie latter was con80f|uently conipelle<l tti start life in a stony 
norUl with a stock-in-trado which consisted of a scrappy know- 
lodge of the classics, a regular gift of tongues, and the friend- 
ship of James Walker. Tlie last item prove<l of the greatest, 
ur at all events of the most imme<liate, valno. For Walker, 
whose father was the junior partner in a firm of West African 
mereluuits, obtaineii for Hnttcms a )>crtli as the bookkeeper at a 
branch factory in ' 

Thus th«' frii- is went out to West Africa 

aloDe at. ouim on the day when he lando<1. 

The ■■> Walker's ears until sometime 

afterwsrils, nor when he licanl of it did he at once appreciate 
the effect which it hail upon Hattcras. But since chronologically 
it eOHiBS into the story at this point, it may as well lie imme- 
diately written down. 

Tliore was no settlement very near to the factory. It stood by 
itself on the swamps of the Foioiidos river with the mangrove 
forest closing in about it. Accordingly the cajitain of the st*-anior 
just put Ilntteras nshoro in a boat and loft him with his tr<ips 
on the lieoch. Ha]f-a-<lozen Kni boys had come down from the 
factory to receive him, but they could speak no English, and 
Hattoras at this time could speak no Kru. So that although 
there was no lack of conversation there was not much inter- 
change of thought. At Inst Hattcras pointed to his trops. Tho 
Kru twys picked them up and piocoded Hatteras to the factory. 
lliev mounted the st^'ps to the verandah on tlio first tluor and 
lai.l their loads down. Then thej- procoodod to furtlier conversa- 
tion. Hattoras retired tlirough tho windows of a room uhioh 
gave on tho verandah, and sat down to wait for his superior, the 
agent. It was early in tho morning when Hattoras landed and 
he waited until midday patiently. In the afternoon it occuried 
to him that the agent would have shown a kindly consideration 
if he had left a written messago or an intelligible Kru boy to 
receive him. It is true that the blacks came in at intervals and 
chatt«rod and gesticulatoi), but mattors were not thereby appre- 
ciably improved. Ho did not like to go poking about tho house, 
so ho contemplated tho mud-banks and the mud-river and the 
mangiove forest, an<l cursed the agent. Tho country was very 
quiet. Tliero are fe"v things in the world (luioter than a West 
African forest in the daytime. It is obtrusively, emphatically 
quiet. It does not let yon forget how singularly (piict it is. 
And towards sundown tho i|uietudo began to jar on Hattoras" 
nerves. He was besides very hungi'y. To while away the time 
ho took a stroll round the verandah. 

Ho walked along the sido of tho house towards the back, 
and as ho noared the back ho hoard a humming sound. The 
further he went tho louder it gi-ew. It was something like the 
hum of a mill, only not so metallic and not so loud ; and it 
came from the rear of tho house. 

Hattcras turned the corner and what ho saw was this -a 
shuttore<l window and a cloud of flies. The flies were not aim- 
lessly swarming outside the window ; they streamed in through 
the lattices of tho shutters in a busy jiractical way ; they came 
in columns from the forest and converged upon the shutters ; and 
tho hum soundeil from within the room. 

Haitoras looked about for a Kru boy just for the sako of com- 
pany, but, of course, at that moment there was not one to be 
seen. He wont back to tho room in which ho had iMjon sitting, 
penetrated into the interior of the house, guessed which was the 
door he wanted, and opened it. He stood outside on tho 
thro.shold until ho felt equal to the atmosphere. Then he entered. 
At first he saw littlo because of the gloom. In a moment, how- 
ever, ho made out a bed stretched along tho wall and a thing 
strotchoil upon the bed. The thing was more or less shapeless 
because it was covered with a black, furry sort of rug. Hattcras, 
however, had littlo trouble in defining it. He understood 
what it was that the Kru boys had been so anxious to 
explain to him. He approached the bod and bent over it. Then 
the horrible thing occurred which loft so vivid an impression on 
Hatteras. Tho black, furry rug suddenly lifted itself from the 
bed, beat about Hattoras' face, and dissolved into flies. The 
Kru boys found Hatteras in a dead swoon on the floor lialf-an- 
hour later, and next day, of course, ho was down with the fever. 
Tho agent had di<'d of it three days before. 

Hatteras recovered from the fever, but not from the impres- 
sion. It left him with a prevailing sense of horror and, at flrst, 
with a sense of disgust too. " It's a damned obscene country," 
he would say. Hut ho stayed in it, for ho had no choice. All 
tho money which ho could save went to the support of his 

For sis years, then, the firm moved him about from district to 
district, from factory to factory, and wherever Hatteras was 
]M)Kte<l he managed to pick up a native dialect and, natui'ally 
enough, with that dialect a knowledge of native customs. Dia- 
lects are numerous on the west coast, and HatteriM could speak 
as many of thorn as a good number of traders could enumerate. 
It was not, however, that he devoto<l excessive study to thoni, 

July 9, 1898.] 



but lanKitagea ran in his bIoo<1. At the end of tix yuan, Ami 
mnitily bi«:iiu8o of liiii roputittion for kiiow1u<l};o, liu obtuinnl 
Borvifo iiiuU'i- the Nincr I'rotoctoruto, niiil wht-n, two yearn 
Inter, Wiilkor came out to Africa to opun a nuu- branch factory 
at a anttluiiiuiit on tho Itonriy rivor, )io foun<l flattPrat Rti«- 
tiono<l in cnmnianil tlicro. 

MatttiraA, in fact, »t>nl ilown to lionny rivor town to ninct 
tho Rtuamor which bruu;;ht bis friuiiil. 

" I say, iJick, you look l)iiil," Bniil WalkiT. 

" People aren't, a« a rule, oll'<<7iHivcly robunt about thcMti 

•' I know that ; hut you're tho woariost l>a>; of bones I've 
over scon." 

" Wull, look at yoursolf in a j;la8s a year from now for my 
ilouble," said Hnttcras, and tho pair wont up river toj;otluM-. 

" Your factory's next to tho Uosidoncy," said Hatteras. 
" There's a compoiuul to each running down to tho river, and 
thorn's a pulisado between tho compounds. I've cut a little gate 
in thii palisado as it will 8hort<Mi the way from ono haiian to the 

The wickot gate was frequently uso<l during; the next few 
months -indeed, more frequently than Walker ima^iniMl. Ho 
was only aware that, when they wore both at home, Hnttcras 
would como through it of an evening and smoke on his verandah. 
Then he would sit for hours cursing the country, raving about 
the lights in Piccadilly-circus, and offering his immortal soid 
in e.Nchango for a comic-ojwra tune played ujwm a Iwirrel-organ. 
Walker possosseil a big atlas, and ono of Hatteras' ehief diver- 
sions was to traoo with his linger a bie-line across tho African 
continent and tlie Bay of Biscay until he reached London. 

More rarely Walker would stroll over to the Uesidenoy, but 
he soon came to notice that Kattoras Iiad a distinct prtference 
for tho factory and for tho factory verandah. The rijason for tho 
]>roferonce pu/.zlod Walker considerably. He drew a quite 
erroneous conclusion that Hatteras was hiding at tho Itosideucy 
well, some one whom it was prudent, especially in an oHicial, to 
conceal. Ho abandoned tho conclusion, however, when he dis- 
covered that his friend was in tho habit of making solitary 
oxpoditions. At times Hatteras woulil be absent for a couple of 
days, at times for a week, and, so far as Walker coulil ascertain, 
he not so unioh a.s took a servant with him to keep him comjianv. 
Ho would simply announce at night his intended de|vartnre,and in 
tho morning ho would Iw gone. Nor on bis return did ho ever offer 
to Walker any explanation of his journeys. On ono occasion, 
however. Walker br<mched the subject. Hatteras had como back 
the night before, and he sat cronohe<l up in a dock chair, looking 
intently into the darkness of the forest. 

" I say," asked \\ alkor, " isn't it rather dangerous to go 
slumming about A\'ost Africa alone ? " 

Hatteras did not reply for a moment. He seemed not to have 
heard tho suggestion, anil when ho did 9[H>ak it was to ask a 
(piite irrelevant question. 

'• Have you ever seen the Horse (Juards' Parade on a dark. 
rainy night'/ " he asked ; but ho never moved his head, ho never 
took his eyes from tho forest. " The wot level of ground looks 
j\ist like a lagoon and the arches a N'onice |>alaoe above it." 

" But look hero. Dick ! " said Walker, keeping to his sub- 
ject. " Von never leave word when you are coming back. (»ne 
never knows that you have come back until tho morning after." 

" 1 think." said Hatteras slowly. " that tho Hno.>it sight in 
the world is to be seen from the bridge in St. James's Park when 
there's a State Iwll on at Buckingham Palace and the light from 
the windows reddens the lake and the carriages glance about the 
Mall like tiretiios." 

■• Even your servants don't know when yon como back." said 

•' Oh," said Hatteras quietly. " so you have been asking 
ipiestions of my servants ? " 

" I had a goo<l reason." replie«l Walker. " your safety," and 
with that the conversation dropj^ed. 

Walker watched Hatteras. Hattera-s watchinl tho forest. A 
West African mangrove forest at night is full of the eeriest, queerest 

■oumte that •¥« • m«n'» mu« hasrln>t>~i •'■ * ••■' •' ••- '-nm* 

not to mneh from the hinU, or th« ,.« ; 

thoy iieem to come from the (tramp I 
•t the ri>ota of the tr»4n. Theru'i n 

rei'   . . , 



whining cou;,'h of a tT<K'o<lilo. , woulil 

start up in his rhnir and cook In „ . ,,i>i iJ,«f 

hears another dog barking in the street. 

" Doesn't it sound damnod wicked 7 " ho mM, vfUt ■• um'^'r 
•mile of enjoyment. 

Walker di<l not answer. Tho li«ht fi ' ' '■ 

Iwhind them struck obli<|uely ii|><>n Hat' 
off from it in a i< 
thread among tb' 

enjoyment which laii in llatl<'t>tii v. .,.,■. 

His eyes, his ears, weie aleit, and : iiut 

his mouth with a little clicking of i \,\t> 

way bo seemoti to have something i: t to 

IHirticijinte in, the activity of tho swamp. Thus, had Walker 
often seen him sit, but never with the light so cloar n|>on his fatw, 
and the sight gave to him a (piito new impromion of his friend. 
He wonderofl whether all these months ! ' • '..^.i, 

WTong. And out of that wonder a new t hi* 


" Dick." he said, " this house of mino stand* bctwwn your 
house and the forest. It stands on • on 

tho tnlgo of tho swamp. Is that why \ .•>»t 

own '/ 

Hatteras turno<l his head quickly tiiwards his cnm|ianion. 
almost suspiciously. Then he looked Wk into the darkneaa. and 
after a little he said : 

'* It's not only the things you care about, old man, which 
tug at you, it's the things you hate as well. 1 hate "' try. 

I hate thosu miles and miles of mangroves. aii<l ole 

thing fascinates me. I can't get it out ,d. 1 Uieam 

of it at nights. I <lroan\ that I am sinki' .t black oily 

Imtter of mud. Listen." and he sii 'ike with hia h«*d 

stretched forwards. " Doesn't it sou 1 ? " 

" But all this talk alx>ut Ijondon f " cri»l Walker. 

" Oh. don't you see ? " intemiptMl Hatteras roughly. 
Then he changeil his tone and continued quietly. " Oim has to 
struggle against a fascinatimi of that sort." 

" Look here, Dick." said Walker. •• You hail lietter get l(«re 
and go Imck to the ohi country for a s|wdl." 

•' A very solid piece of advice," said Hatteras. ami he went 
home to tlie Residem-y. 

(To t>e continue*!.) 



The Dark Way of Love. (!/• Cuk ill.- de Kerali.-^.i Par 
Charles Le Oofflc. by Bdlth Wlngate Kinder. 
7/ ..°>Jin., viii. + 17)1 pp. Ixindon, ].<4I«. Constabln. 3.6 

So little is known of r. ,; 
that small section of the V. 
current Frt>nch literature « ; ; . that it i 

the name of M. Charles Ia- ' ' come • 

to English ears. This, indeed. i» the '• - - -•> <ar i 

M. Ix> (ioftic was. until recently, l>v im v <i: ^ wn even 

to the reailing world of Paris. French critics and a umall 
public recogninnl that a new writer had appeared. But exce|it 
to a few enthusiasts, Bretons themselves no donbt, there was. 
out of Brittany, a very limited audience for the poet of 
" .\mour Bn'ton." When " Passi? I'.^mour " apf«ared, a much 
larger numlvr of jieople heani of the new ro'iiancist. Here, it 
was ailmitted. was a Breton who wr<^te of Brvtono n* hi« inti- 
mate kindred, and of Brittany as his own lanil. hi- • :rce 
of inspiration. Nevortfaelees he would not have the 



[July 9, 1898. 

impftti«nt tit of Pari* to gire him more UiMi a moment's heed 
had h* not won ita attention by hia strange, 8onibn>, and 
fccMful atudy of the gloomier antl more fanatical aa(wcts 
of Rr»(i>n |«asant life. " I.e Crucitit- <Io Kemliis " was so 
• • nin of i-nrrent tVuioli liotian, in subject, mctho«l, 
. thnt -t micht well have failed t» roach the public ; 
'. it niuB* be added, is almost ns in- 
 ; . j"irary life and litornttiro of the French 

'• Celtio fringe " aa, till recently, at any rate, the Knglisli 
public towards the preaont literature and life of Celtic Scotland 
ftnd Ireland. But first one critic of repute, then anotlier, then 
anoUMr, intlicatetl the peculiar power of this now writer niul 
tha aingnlor interest of his tragic romance, the latter at once so 
eommonplaoe and so alive with tbo primary hiiuinn uiiiutions, 
aboT» all with the passion of hate. Suildonly the announcement 
was •  the Krciicli Academy hud crowned " Lo CniciritJ " : 

and \> ^. and a second e<lition, M. Le Ciolhc became an 

"arrived" man. It is this l>ook which Mrs. Winpate Hinder has 
translated under the apt — indeed, considering the story, the most 
felicitoiLs-title, " The Dark Way of Love." 

Presumably Mrs. Wiugato Kinder has closely followed 
eurrent Bret<m and Franco- Breton literature since she pub- 
iiahed two or throe years ago her l>e.nutiful retelling of Itreton 
legMidary romances undor the npi>osite title, " TIk* Shadow of 
Arvor" — Arvor, Armor, and Armorica being old names for Brit- 
tany. " The Dark Way of Love" is not another ' ' Shadow of Arvor. ' ' 
There is little of the ]M>etic atmosphere, and still less of the 
delicate Celtic charm of the latter. But some of M. Le Goltic's 
brief suggestions, for he rarely descril>es, convey a true Breton 
atmosphere : and Mrs. Wingate Kinder is never more felicitous 
in translation than in these instances. How excellent, for 
example, is this : — 

" God help OS !" said tb* youag girl, as she rose. " Yon know 
b«it what II right." The dosk ba<I now dceiicntHl into Uii- clarkness nf 
aight. .\bore the horizon soared the round, yellow mi»iii, Hnd arros8 
the moorlands fell thir taut ecfaoi-* of the liells in PIciimeur !>teeple 
sannding the Angelas. Not ftr from where the lovers stood a little 
Aafiberd lul wu singing the lament of Lozaic Kerambrun : — 

I^uir Kerambruz moved along the shore, gathering mussels as 

•he paMed ; 
Tbaae she plaotd in her basket, singing softly the while. 

Hola ! lasses of Logneltas, who more shorewHrd in the duxk, 

B* heedful while ye gather mussels, singing softly the while. 
And the voices of shepherd lads and lasses on the distant moorland took 
up the refrain a." an echo : — 

Hola '. lasses of Logueltas, who move shoreward in the dusk. 

Be heedful while ye gather mussels, singing softly the while. 

It was a bi'' ' '!i:ng to part thus. Louis put her breast against 

his own, and ci  otiior's heart beating. Tears were in the 

•yea of each as tij. y Ki-^<"i and kissed again. 

With that th.y parted. . . . 

" I lore you. Franocsa," Tbomassin called softly through the dusk. 

" Hush ! Hash '. I, too, love you, Lonis-ar-beo '. " 

Episodically the story has nut that unwavering continuity 
which a liook of the kind demands, and the author domonstr.ntcs 
agai: Lin the ditTcrence between the ability to ris(> to an 

isol  ;ti'- climax and tlit' nativn faculty to See and shape 

' • 10 of this. Whon the 

; : lit by one flame, that 
of a grues and terrible fanaticism crouches l>cforo the great 
metal crucifix rautc<l menacingly above her by the infiiriatctl and 
de«ply-wTongod Thoinassin— in a word, at the most critical 
moment in this bitter trage<ly of the dark way of love -the 
author abniptly iliverges into a prolix and untimely account of 
the story of the crucifix " aa Coupaia had heartl it from her old 

In licr bi ' V note, the translator happily indi- 

cates the e*s< : 'f what is iiidee<l " this strange and 

tragic episode oi of the savagery of primitive 

nature* pervert* -d .tition." And in truth there is, 

aa sua says, at than the romance-land of Armorica, 

than the boms.... , : Kinile Souvestre, than the sacrosanct 

region of which Renan ha* written. No greater contrast could 
exist, for instanc<>, than between the remote, serene Britt^iny so 

vividly outlined by Madame Darmcstetor in the fascinating 
opening pugos of her Life of Hcnan and the Urittnny here depicted 
by M. Le lii>llic. Both are true. In that grey, nicliinoholy land the 
Breton habitually walks bctwi-en two bitt4.>r comrudes. Drink and 
Su|x>rKtitioii. M. I^o (lonir has seen the tnitli of this ; he has 
been wrought by it: he wiot<' bis book out of the sadiu-HS of this 
knowledge. Hi' would l>o the last, of course, to say that " Lo 
Cruoifiu lie Konilies " is an adequate picture of the Brittimy of 
to-<lay : be puts it forth as a vivid and faithful dclincati<>n of a 
terrible phaise in the evolution of peasant life in la Kielatjnr 
maritimf. His l>ook is convincing liocause it is true ; ho is too 
patriotic a Breton to wish it to be taken as more than a vivid 
sidelight upon the less familiar as|ioctB of tliu remoter peasant 
life in that pro-eminently Armorican iwrt of thf ]>enin.suln wliic^h 
ho knows so well. Mis. Wingate Kinder exactly indicates its 
value when she concludos her prefatory remarka with the words : 
" The paiimioiint interest of M. Le Oonic's lireton roiimnce is in 
the fact that its jiages mirror the tragic byplay of religious 
fanaticism in a new, forceful, and convincing way." 

The translation, as one would exi>ect from the author of 
" The Shadow of Arvor," is admirably done. Whore some 
liberties have beon taken with the original, the gain iu the 
Knglish version is unquostionable. There is one episode in 
particular which might well have baffled the deftest translator, 
and it is no sm:ill <'redit to Mrs. Wingnto Kinder that in 
omitting a little needless bnitnlity she has forfeited nothing in 
strength or continuity. 

Mr. SladeninTriK Ai'mikai. i Hutchinson. li.s. \ has siicuvn con- 
siderable hardihood in attacking so thornya subject as the relations 
of Lcnl Nelson and Lady Hamilton at all, and still more in 
attempting to explore the inner working of the Admiral's mind 
in his relations with the adventuress, by means of a journal kept 
by Lord Nelson, and eventually purchased by Cu])tttin llardres, 
hero of the story, from a Mrs. Hunter, who had known Enima 
after her fall. He has also traiisgrosse<l what is oftt-n laid down 
as a maxim for the historical novelist —that historical characters 
should not uphold the princi^tal part, for Nelson is almost as 
much the horo of the story as Will Hardres. But this is to some 
extent a counsel of perfection, and would certainly exclude a 
good many books which may be read with both entertainment 
and profit. Despite certain points which suggest obvious criti- 
cism, -Mr. Sladen's novel may be reckoned among such liookH. 
His style is pleasant : his characters, which are judiciously 
few, are attractive and life-like ; and the pictures of Sicily and 
Naples deserve, from a literary point of view, much commenda- 
tion. The mixture of history and fiction which results from the 
plan adopted cannot be regarded as quite successful. The journal 
an<l the story are often made cleverly to work in with one another, 
and the two threads are united through the jiersonality of Nelson 
— the love storj- of the book hinging on the suiciile of an Italian 
princess, who drowns hiTSelf for love of the .Vdmiral. But the 
[Militics, the result of which is outside the sco])e of the story, 
often delay us when we want to get on with the love-making. We 
are, however, willing to sacrifice some artistic unity for the sake 
of the interesting picture given us of the Adminil, for interesting 
it is, although we are hardly convinced by the etfort Mr. 
Sladen makes to rouse our sympathy for Lord Nelson in his 
relations with Kmma and our lulmiration and affection for the 
latter. Nelson {.ersuades himself by reasons which we can hardly 
reconcile with his charncter. Karly in the book we have the 
following : — 

No, already I love Emma ns much as an English gentleman may love 
a friend's wife. 8he is to ine the most iMVUtiful, affectionate, loyal, 
respectable woman alire : and she lias soeli a perfect fnedom from 
mautaitt /ioii<«, aswe luie<l to say when I was studying that vile language 
at St. Onier, that she pi'imits herself to grant mi- all the innocent 
earesaes she would grant n brnther. And she trusts lieiself with me too 
much. Pray (irid I may not mean these words "too much." 1 hoi>e I 
an a gentleman. But I mean tliat she is too tnislful, if I were a villain. 
After later developments Nelson wriU-s :- - 

1 su|FpoM' if a man were starveil of sleep he would die, a.n if he were 
ftarriNl of food and drink. And as with n man who has felt the im|H'riouH 
call of sleep, «i it is with a man who has felt the imperious call of love. 

July y, 1898.] 

literati; HK. 


To mmn men it poinm l*t«<i I Iwvit livml forty yemn without it, but now 
that it hu mimi', tliouKb I konw I mimt \m > *ilUiii. I frel mm if 
lovu Wfi-i' ait mtioli piirt of my human iiatun- a* nlmp, and I fori that lifn 
ia a Kri-ut, lovely, kI'Tioui) thiiiK, aixl that lif<' with loTe i> like wiiuiiii« 
a victory in which you .l.i n"t let one nhip i-»i-»pc. 

And, linally, 

I havi' tioilouhin ii..n .M 111. inuoci'iire nml benclifn*'^ of thii frionil- 
ahip. Iiuiooenco iloi'S not minify abiitio4iiice, hut tl»' iilxiiu-e of that 
wbirh in hail for onr. Ami how couhl lui-h a friinilnhlp li^ bad V Thii 
nITi'i'tion nn<l nyinpathy of n gooil womnu are the brat gift* that Oixl 
buHtoWH ui>on man. To innn it in appointcil to (to forth into the vineyard 
tu work, anil to tiKht if n««il he. and woman Ik giren to him to makit bini 
a home. For a homo lim not in tlwi four wnlln of a palao-, or a 
cottage, hut in the woinan'ii liuart who make* of mere wood and itooo an 
*bodo of ri'Ht and happiucsa. 

This may not bo, and prolmbly is not, a true Nelsoo, but it is n 
consistent pictiirn, not unskilfully drawn, and briglitenwl by 
mucli {iicturus<|iiu local colour and incident. 

Mauriis .Tokai, perhaps the most prolitio and successful of 
living iiiivolists, has already Imconie well known t<> Knglish 
readers. This is due, nut only to his own merits, but t<> the 
fact tliat he has Inien fortunati.' in his translators, an advantage 
certainly not always enjoyed by Continental writers of fiction. 
Just before reading Dk. Bihany's Wifk (Jarrold, 6«.) we ha«l 
laid down a translation, recently pidilishoil, of Hauff's " Marie 
of liichtenstein," and we did so with a feeling of amazement 
at the hardihood of a German student, who is ap|)iu-ently 
incaimble of iiriKluuing readable, i>r even intelligible, Knglish 
prose, utnlertaking to present to English readers this iK>]iular 
romance, and npnjogizing for a brief " Translator's preface 
by the in};enuous remark that lie is " content to let the story 
speak for it-<elf." In the hands of an accomplished writer like 
Mr. Nisliet liiiin, or of Mme. V. Steinitz. whom Jokai selectttl 
to render into English " Dr. Dumany's Wife," the great Hun- 
garian writer has nothing to fear. This novel shows in a high 
degree that craft of the story-teller which is the peculiar merit 
of Dr. Jokai. Half a century of writing has made him a master 
in the devising and handling of a plot. In "Dr. Dtimany's 
Wife " there is no dallying by the way. With kaleidoscopic 
rapidity scene after scone i>a.sses before us, and mysteries resolve 
themsolves only to liecomo mysteries once more. We l>egin with 
a railway accident in Switzerland, and then find ourselves in the 
sumptuous Parisian hotel of an American nalmb, where is un- 
folde<l to Dr. Jokai the romantic story of Dr. Dumany's marriage 
-a story comimct of Hungarian jMilitics, demonology, tinance, 
and the Franco-Prussian war. With the rush of incident in the 
concluding chapters, where Dr. Dumany tries to rid himself of 
his wealth by spoctdation in French Rentes, and Buccee<ls, to 
his dismay, in doubling it at each turn of the Frtnich fortunes, 
we feel that we are caught up into a world of Oriental fancy : but 
our delight in the author's ingetniity is far too keen to admit of 
criticism either on the probability of the story or its treatment 
of historical facts. Amid the multitude of works of fiction 
loaded with matter which does little to drive on the plot it is 
refreshing to reail one where the structure is so gooil and whore 
■every nail of it is hammered so rjuickly and so I'lnni.Iifilv. 

Hincvican Xcttcr. 

Whatever books may be, at the present hour. 
The Novel of ,, ^^^^^ \mc\i," the flood of fiction shows -so far as 
'* ^'' ' volume is concerned— few signs, as yet, of running 
thin. It is doubtless capable, at the same time, of flowing a little 
clearer, and would do so but for the temporary check of some of 
its tributary streams. Meanwhile there would bo many things 
to say about " The Juggler," the latest production of the lady 
WTiting under the name of Charles Egbert Craddock -so many 
that I feel jierhaps a little guilty of evading a duty in finding 
myself, since tlie cpiestion is one of selection, disposed not to 
6ay those things that spring most directly from a perusal of the 

work. Thi* it b«a»«M* of tfc* Mtparior inlrrrvl «•> I frankly 

ronfnaa tha matter strikM in» -of »■ •>» 

auggaations. Tliu aathor doaia utuUo^' . . -imI 

hna so dealt from th» firat, and tberaby, !«rlia|« 

than ollii : 1 of tha oitme wondr' '-* with 

tome of t lar cona«qii»nc*a, a of Um 

worship of ill . isouw, 

as l«tn?, I i' <t». I 

hnv. -rt 

and : "- 

forces many of the • 

but in " The Durk'. . , .. . ...c : 'TB 

rising into the titlo itself — an ortlaaa apontancitr, an instinct, 

on the author's part, at tiroaa, I hiuiten to a<kl. • »i'-»>ly 

happy, has the matter wholly in cliarge. Iloth oi ><s 

have made a study of the life ami spotich of th« moiiiu.iiin-<r» of 

Tennessee, and whut is moat thair own ap(iosr*. on Uis showing, 

to be their close not ' -r. Th« 

reproduction of the I r • far oa 

the inexpert may jml "t 

with the pnlm for hm ^ 

and of the homelier, the homeliest tr 

to Miss Barnwell Elliott. "The I 

some iMiints so much tincenty of 

would be reduce*! -were he not, in ii.. ..i.-... 

csp«H,-ially, familiar with the siid phenomcnon- 

at the inconso<pient drop, on other aides, of 

merits. Half the critic's business ia in Iran 

exiiectations, and it would 

sometimes some return for i 

return is still a return p.r' ii - . v- . ai.ii he luta, »» I uwy »*y, 

to call for it in jierson ami  inv ii h.'Tii.- 

There are pages of Miss Barnwell Elliott's novel in 

' , which, through the ignoble jar-  ■-* 'i-- >-.' ii.tioB 

Durket , , . ^ ^,. -w .- 

g .. she tlcpicts, the vibration ot a« 

it is, this popidation at 't* 

as straight as if talent had sot it i ''* 

which I should be sorry not to expre.u lu. 't, 

accordingly, seems for the moment cor^ ily 

there are lapses and siirr es 

and wimder if we have on so 

far as the candid reader would see his way t<i siikte it, is the pre- 
dicament of a young woman of *' mountain " oii^in. ^in'l t!i< reby 
a child of mittire, indeiK'ndont and una: l<]r 

race, on her mother's side, still more upi,.,..... ..  ho 

is reduced by <lomcstic stress to t«king a ^ is 

" waitress " in the family of a professor .i" ..luriiig 

" I'niversity."' and who, in that office, is so v- ompro- 

misfHl by the ■^ of an ut^ '.u TelinnasMi 

hills and val!' ring wit)- i-tw was aiqr^ 

thing clearly vii j rely be some 

presentation of t j i - : the aflfcet 

serving only to bewilder us so Ion. linly look for tlw 

cause. Was the cause, by chance, ■• <)e appearonoes of 

extreme intimiioy which, even when only appwirances, « lorg* 
body of the American public woiihl s<>em to deny to thos* 
aspiring to represent its numners the privilege of so mudi as 
intelligibly alluding to ? We grope in darkness — that airleaa 
gloom of false delicacy in which the light of life quite goes ottt. 
Hut that is an old inconv. • .a diffecvnt 

matt<>r from my concern at i is the qna*- 

tion of what may bo impli»l as . n paint*r of 

manners even by such a ijuest oi »iire as may 

yield a hatful of qu<"«>r pieces. M .os us in the 

hideous figure of her old |Ni8sionatc. | '. - •!«• — *' Mrs. 

John Warren," a domestic deajKit instinct with priilo of race— an 
admirable success, but she gives us nothing else. Ther» is no 
picture, no evocation of anything for any sen.'W hut the loopratM) 

ear. no expression of sr - ' — .Tt or motion. IfkintfT 

tlian faint are the " ' us and curiously sug- 

gestive of how little till' iith of vulgar lin- 

guistics is a gimrnntee of t! other truth. 



[July 9, 1898. 


That. I Mn afiuid, is the mormi, not leaa, of the 
"^^ ,, iin|>r<MsionR siigf^oated by " Mr. CrutUlock," wliose 
work presenta to my piuule«l iieiuie tho otUluRt 
awocUtion of incongruous things. The " CoTit«s," the uncouth 
vmlley-people of the miiUlle Soiith-AN'ost, nro again — and as in 
til* eaae of Miss Elliott — hiT thumo, but the general air of thx 
picture Iimhm itiw-lf in tho strnngo orurgrowth of pxpression into 
which the wTitt-r ;ipp<v<r^ to fwl tho noe«l of oxtmvagiintly 
Mboaoding from t it which I cannot but think 

it ratlMr k perrerM lo to be insistently literal. 

The author aita clown by herself, as it were, wlionover she can, 
to a perfect treat of " modernity," of contemporary nows- 
papTWe. The flower of an Knglish often stranger still than the 
moimtain Tariety blooms bright in this soil, and that brings me 
precisely u> whiit is really intert-sting in the general exhibition — 
the question of the possible bearing, on the art of the repre- 
sentation of manners, of the predominance more and more 
enjoye<l by the rt 'ion of those pirticular manners with 

which dialect is i . allietl. It is not a question, doubt- 

leas, on which we :'' ii>sst>d to conclude, and that indeed is 
not the least of its air.ictions. We can conclude only in the 
light of a goo<l deal of evidence, and tho evidence, at present 
rates, promises to be still more abundant and various. A part 
of the value of the two writers I have just glanced at is that 
they liberally contribute to it. More and more, as we go 
through it. taking it as occasion serves, certain lessons will 
scarcely fail to disi-ngage themselves, and there will, at the 
worst, have been a great deal of entertainment by the way. 
Nothing is more striking, in fact, than the invasive part played 
by tho element of dialect in tho subject-matter of the American 
fiction of the day. Nothing like it. prolMibly — nothing like any 
such predominance — exists in English, in I'Vench, in German 
work of the same order ; the ditfercnce, therefore, clearly has 
its reasons and suggests its reflections. I am struck, right and 
left, with the fact that most of the " cleverness " goes to the 
stu<ty of tho conditions - conditions primitive often to the limit 
of extrMme l>arbari»m— in which colUxjuial speech arrives at 
con.' isement : if present signs are made good it would 

seen I. in the Unit<«l States, to be, for a period, more 

active and fruitful than any corresp<mding appreciation of tho 
phenomena of the civilized soul. It is a part, in its way, to all 
appearance, of tho great general wave of curiosity on the subject 
of the soul aboimdingly not civilized tliat lias lately l>egun to 
roll over the Anglo-Saxon glol>e and that has borne Mr. Kailyard 
Kipling, say, so supremely high on its crest. 

Critically, then, tho needful thing is first to make 
Th* P"" sure of it, observe an<l follow it; it may still have 
kT'r* 1 nnsuspectod pearls — for it occasionally deals in 
,'. these trophies- to cast at our feet. What, above 

Primitive. <^''' makes the distinction in the literatures I have 
just mentioned is that, whether or no the portrayal 
of the simpler folk flourishes or fails, there always goes on 
liesidc it a tradition of |>ortrayal (assuming this to be in cases 
effective) of those who are the product of circumstances more 
complex. England just now shows us Mr. Kipling, but shows 
OS also Mrs. Humphry War<l. Franco has a handful of close 
observers of special rustic manners, but has also M. Paul 
Bourgot. Krance, indc>c<l, has even yet a good deal of every- 
thing. We possess in America Mr. Howells ; but .Mr. Howells' 
imagination, tliough remarkably comprehensive, does its<-lf most 
justice, I think, in those relations in which it can commune most 
persuasively with the democratic passion that is really tho 
prom|>ter'B voice — tho voice that may at moments almost reach 
an ear or two even al>ove the bustle <>i tho play of his whole 
performance as a novelist. I^esving out Hawtliomeand lieginning 
after him, I can think of no such neat hands as tho hands 
flaeling with tho orders that in other countries are s|ioken of as 
the " low<«-." The American novel that has nia<le most noise in 
the world— Mrs. Iloecher Htowe's famous tale— is a picture of tho 
life of negro slaves. I have liefore mo a consiilerablo group of 
" •toriee," long ami short, in which rigorously hard conditions 
and a iuhion of Knglish — or call it of American more or less 

"Tlic Story of 
a PUy 

abnormal are ageneral sign of the types represented. In "Chimmie- 
Fa4lden," by Mr. Edward Townstmd, the very riot of the ab- 
nonnal — the dialect of tho New York newslwjy and l)ootblack - is 
itself the text of the volume of two hundro<l pages. And these 
are the great successes ; tho great successes are not tho studies 
of the human plant under cultivation. The answer to the Why ? 
of it all woiilil probably tako us far, land us even ]Mirhapa in 
the lap of an imjuiry as to what cultivation the hiiiiian plant, in 
the country at large, U under. 

liut 1 must not, after all, tako up the imiuiry just 
now. Mr. W. D. Howells' " Story of a Play " 
and tho " Silence " of the admirable .Miss Mary 
Wilkins suddenly rise before me with an air of dissuasion. Mr. 
Howells' short and charming novel, which jierhaps might more 
fitly have l>een nanie<l " The Story of a Wife," moves in a 
medium at which we are at the opposite end of the scale from 
the illustrations prompting the foregoing remarks - in a world 
of wit, perception, intellectual curiosity which have at their 
service an expression highly developed. The Iwok - admirably 
light, and dealing, for the most part, only with tho comody of 
tho particular relation dopicto<l — is an irit^Tosting contribution 
to the history of one of the liveliest and most dillused necessities 
of the contemporary man — and perhaps even more of tho con- 
temporary woman -of letters, tho necessity of passing a longer or 
a shorter time in tho valley of the shadow of the theatre. The 
recital of this siKisniociic connexion on the part of almost any one 
who has known it and is capable of treating it can never fail to 
lie rich alike in movement and in lessons, and the only restriction 
Mr. Howells' volume has suggestocl to me is that he has not 
cut into the subject (juito so deep as tho intensity of the 
experience — for I assume his experience — might have made 
possible. It is a chapter of bewilderments, but they are for the 
most part cleared up, and the writer's fundamental optimism 
appears to have, on tho whole matter, the last word. There can 
surely be no stronger proof of it. He has perhaps indeed even 
purposely approached his subject ut an angle that comfielled him 
to graze rather than to jKiiiotrate- I moan in oiiening tho door 
only ujion such a part of the traflic as might come within the 
ken of tho lady wlui here iigures as the partner of the hero's 
discipline. Tho hitter's experiment is hardly more than a 
glimpstt of tho business so long as it includes, as it were, the- 
collalKiration of this lady ; his initiation is imperfect so long as 
hers gives the pace at which it procoods. In short I think the 
general opportunity a groat one, and am brought lnvck, by the 
limits of the particular impression Mr. Howells has been content 
to give of it, to that final sense of the predestined In-auty of 
Iwhaviour on tho part of every one concerned kindness, imtionce, 
submission to boredom and general innocent humanity which 
is what most roiiiaina with me from almost any picture he [iro- 
duces. It is sure to 1h(, at tho worst, a world all lubricated with 
gootl nature and the tone of pleasantry. Life, in his pages, is 
never too hard, too ugly, passions and p<-rversitios never too 
sharp, not to allow, on the part of his people, of such an exercise 
of friendly wit about each otlmr as may well, when one considers 
it, minimize shocks and strains. So it muffles and softens, all 
round, the e<lges of " The Story of a Play." Tho mutual 
indulgences of the whole thing fairly bathe the prosjiect in 
something like a sutTusion of that " romantic '' to which the 
author's theory of the novel otfers so little hospitjility. And 
that, for the moment, is an odd consummation. 
, „ Miss Wilkins, in " Silence "a collection of six 

short tales— has " gone in " for the romantic with 
visible relish : the remark here is at least true of half her 
volume. The critic's pronqitest attitude toward it that is if 
the critic hapiien to have cherished for her earlier priMluctiotis 
the enthusiastic admiration to which I am (jlad to commit myself 
-can only lie an upliftins of the heart at tho sight of her return, 
safe and sound again, from the dangerous desert of the " long " 
story. It is in pieces on the minor scale that her instinct of 
presentation most happily serves her, ami that instinct, in tho 
things before mo, suffers only a partial eclipse. If I say tlii» 
instead of saying that it suffers none at all, that is simply 

July 9, 1898.] 



iHH-iiusn of my ruoognixing tha opportunity to nuiku a point that 

I Would Im) RpoiUid liy my not inHiHtiiig on my runurvo. Tlie aotiml, 
tlio iiiimuiliikte, thu wliolo ■uiind ami Boiisa of tbo dry ruHlitios of 
rustic Nuw Kiif;lnnd iiru what, fur oome<iy and olegy, (lie lioa 
toucliod witli tliu tirmoit hand. In lior now txjolc, howevur, ahu 
invokus in a mnnnor tlio mus4i of liiHtory, aummona to liur aid 
with mucli ttarnuiitnusH tlio prrdnminant pictur«Hi|iiono8ii -ni« wo 
iiro all so oddly commitlwl to considor it -of Ihu [uist. I cannot 
hdip thinking; tliat, in Hpite of lu<r goo<l will, tho ixixt withhnldM 
from hor tlmt iiiitimil noto which shu extracts so happily from 
tho present. Tim luitural noto is tho touching, tho stirring one ; 
iinil tliuM it hofalls thiit sho really plays tho trick, the trick tho 
romancor tries for, much moro offoctually with tho common 
ohjecta aliout tier than with the ohjocts preserved, and 
sutKciently fado<l and dusty, in the cracke<l glass case of the 
rococo. HKNUY JAMKS. 


Two articles in tho Coll^ m/x>;<n-;/ -Mn<liimo Darniostptcr's 
review of Mr. Hodley's " France," and Signor (i. Dallii \'eccliitt's 
account of " The Uovolt in Itiily " tho (pio.stion of the 
success or failure of Democratic govornmont and mothoiU, which 
Mr. Godkin has just <loalt with from the American standpoint. 
Mr. Itodloy, as our roatioi-a are awaro, has no belief in the 
present French rf<fime ; the country, he thinks, is simply wait- 
ing for tlio strong man who will make a clean sweep of Parlia- 
ment and DoputiuB and establish a benevolent despotism. Madame 
Darmestotor will not hoar of such a remedy ; a tyrant t<j her is 
never benevolent, and sho 8oen\s to expect that the situation 
will bo saved by tho inherent good sonso of tho French nation, 
by tho BVouch capacity for understanding " general ideas," and 
hy the individual energy of Frenchmen. She ailmits tho folly, 
inetlicioncy, corruption, of tho ChamlMir, but says, virtually, that 
it is of no consocpienco. Tho argument is a little curious, 
since it coidd oipially bo applied to any form of governmont. 
If politics really do not matter, why should we be enthusiastic 
about democracy, or oligarchy, or njonarchy ? One may 
bo happy, pro.sperous, energetic, in France, in spite of the 
Chamber, says Madame Darmestotor. No doubt, and the pro- 
position holds good of the government of the Czar or the Shah. 
It is tho position of Johnson : — 

How •innll of all thst human hrarts endan' 
The part that KiiiKx or laws ran cause or cure. 

But if this 1)6 true it seems useless to trouble about " liberty," 
to be the zealot of democracy, to denounce tyrants and military 
despots. Signor Dalla Vecchia is forced to confess on his side 
that the Italians have boon grossly misgovornod and crushed by 
excessive taxation. It is a curious conunont on tho old " L'nite<l 
Italy " movement that th(> revolutionaries of Milan wished to 
establish a local " Ambrosian Republic," and perhaps there are 
many Italians who regret that the brigands, formerly in tho 
mountains, now occupy arm-chairs in tho (iovernment ollicos. 
Other articles of interest are " Mr. Ciladstone," by Mr. Norman 
Hapgood, " Tho Religion of Mr. ^Vatt8■ Pictures " by Mr. Wilfrid 
Richmond, and " Ideal London "' by Mr. FVoderic Harrison. 

In tho dentlemaii's Magazine Mr. Philii> Kent has some 
readable memories of Parliamentary rei>orting, though his chief 
subjects —tho origin of shorthand and tlio decline of Latin ipiota- 
tion — are a little trite. On the latter subject he o|>ons a lino of 
inquiry wliich it might be interestiug to pursue further if it did 
not soon land ono in mere fanciful conjecture— viz., the plagiarism 
of public siioakers. Disraeli's funeral oration on the Iron Duke 
was, it is well known, borrowed from Thiers' tribute to the 
memory of Marshal Gouvion St. Cyr. Hut a little research might 
ixsrhaps show an original for others of that statesman's epigrams. 
Mr. Kent suggests that it was Disraeli who killed the classics in 
Pai-liamciit by the taunts which ho levelled at Sir Robert Peel 
for the triteness of his Latin <piotations, if, indeed, it was not 
tho Duko of Wellington with his advice to a young {leer — 

, thai 

• -1 

1 1« 


'■• •■'•■■• -•. 



, . . . ...ul. 

" Don't {|uot« LaUm, but My jrowr my •> 

|M>oplo, by the way, can really beliare, aa ' it 

Pitman " invontod ihorUiaiKl." I<» >• >•■ t .• 

|ioint«d out, t««tilio<l by oii« of tl^ 

" doa notes tirotiicnnea "--from in... « i..i.. - .•,.. 

Mary Kradfurd Whiting makiM out a oa«« f< 
iru " left iinexplorMl that mighty |  >^  r 
lie of Uto t'ritat **li'nii,iital forea*4 el tt:' 
It ill : 
which in < 
Arthur," iHihavus, U> use W- 

ail " umulvisetl soold " than . .-. 

Pandiilph's " Ijady, you uttur roatinaas ami not atirruw," and 
King Philip's " You are as fond u( ((tiaf aa of your ohilil," giTv- 
thu real clue to her t«ni|ier. 

Tlieconsii -t alluded to »' • " Philip 

Kent linds in I umI ela4iwhere \ w«ll. 

but there is a of 

unconscious p.i al 

incident which »u hiid in an urlicle in ■-. 

It ropresonts an iminensv amount ot i. 

hut we do not gain much from the rell(>ction that " 
C'oleriili/i. uTiito 

He pra vrth b<«t 

.\lt ttiii' u«l ainatl. 

liuddbik had taught that ' the |>raotioa of religion involras aa a 
first (irinciple a loving, compaasioDate heart for all rreiitiinie. ' " 
Still, the curious may find some suggestive thouj^hts in theaa 
closely-|>Hcked pages. Thu number is otherwis- 'id 

varied, and contains an excellent paper on thrat' I < — 

Dupanloup, Liicordairo, and Deipierry— » i  [>- 

tion of 'he scene in NAtre T>:iine '>n the ile "n 

the appearance of I r, 

when tho audience . "tC 

exposures of tho incompetence of the trench Oorommcnl and 
tlie misery of the people : — 

Then, wbco bis lintenar* were wroncht to the biKh >t pilrh of •zrite- 
incnt, when men hchl tbeir breatb sod tbeir rjrc* glvainnl ■Uafrmuaiy, 
he au<l<lenly ttopiiol, luukol <lo»n u|Kin tbam. and Mkid io bit quaiot, 
abrupt way ;— " Wliat ! my (rienda, vmi ti.n.:. I an, •i.i'^- ..: .n »im1 
our tiinei. '.• Ood forbiil '. It is an u! >» 

the Pharaohs I " .\nil a laugh w>t< ''•• 

cathe<lral like a souf(h of wind through a fomt of pinra. He paoM^, 
noting the rfTert lie haci produerd, then, iiavio< bit hand at if to eatt 
aside all irrelevant tbuught*. be Icaaed forwani, aad in a low, im- 
pressive Toicc he brought bit teaobing home to tb«* hearts nf each one of us. 

On another occasion : — 

The listener*, forgetting time an?  N - •■■ >i...- -."'I'lisiaain, broka 
into loud applause ; he stoppr»l at icastim auore 

ol04]urnt than word.-i, p<»inte<i with ou*. .-  (TMlcnMiflz 

wbirb bung on the pillar oppn*il« the pulpit. 

lliMxl ff'oi-ffx publishes two poems by Mr. Gladstona. Ona, in 
tweh-o irregtilar stansos, is " On an infant who was bom, was 
baptized, and died on tlie same day." This originally appeared 
in tho same magitKine in l>d : the other, on " Holy Com- 
munion," in our ii "  r of tl e two, haa not baao 
publishe<l in its ei, :i two verticahare appeared 
in Thr TimfM, It l>egiu.s : — 

Lord '. at Thy t^-raple't porlal* rloae 

Behind tha outward-parting throng. 
So abut my spirit in r»-p"se, 

^o bind it K ick amoag. 

Ilie fickle m^tf] - li atrar 

Back to • : ' n . 

Despite some curious in wards tho end of 

the poem, it is a lieautitul (iroduction, full of dignity and 

Mncmiltan't has a bright anil picturcaqne papor on tha 
Spanish peiiple, 'oy Mr. Charles Eilwanles, an<I an instmctiTa, 
though rikther belated, article on Daudet, by Mr. A. F. Daridaoa ; 
but the numlier is, on the whole, not quite up to the afara^ 
quality of this magasine. 



[July 9, 1898. 




Sir, — The reviewer of my book, "The Making of 
ReUpion," is kind enough to say that I am "as lucid as 
ever." I'erhajvs my dejilorahle mixture of "classical 
English " with *' modern slang" is never lucid. (Vrtainly 
I have left my reviewer with the opinion that I in 
an early " revelation." Now, the hyjwthesis of n " revela- 
tion" to early man seems to me the least plausible 
theory of any, except the theories of Mr. Tylor and Mr. 
Sjiencer. Facts, I think, are against their "ghost- 
theory," while I am • d with no facts in favour of 
the theory of an earl > ion. I remark (p. 184) "I 
do not pretend to know how the lowest savages evolved the 
theory of a (iod. . . ." Again, " how the belief arose, 
■we know not " (p. 331). I added " the hypothesis of St. 
Paul seems not the most unsatisfactory." Another critic, 
with amusing nnivetf, rejilies : "The conclusion was 
naturally dniwn that some form of revelation was 
postulated." St. Paul, I presume, seemed a likely j)erson 
to believe in a primitive revelation. However, he did not, 
and (p. 199) I had already cited his theory, with a 
reference to Konmns i., 19-20. No author, alas, desenes 
to be called " lucid," who cannot make a reader under- 
fltand him. when, time aft«*r time, and in book after book, 
he disclaims the jKJssession of a theory as to the origin of 
belief in God. To take another i)oint, my reviewer says 
that ** I would have to explain how Zeus and .lahweh 
obtained their sacrifices." Certainly, I would have to 
explain it, and, in the case of Jahweli, I do make the 
attemi>t, in the chapter on "Tlieories of Jehovah"; lurking 
thfre, my eft'ort seems to have escajjed the reviewer's 
notice (pp. 308-309). 

" Clainoyance, telepathy, and obsession," says the 
renewer, " at first sight seem somewliat out of jjlace 
in a treatise on the making of religion." No doubt they 
do, if one has not followed Mr. Tylor's well-known 
discussion of the topic. These " 8U])ernorinal " ex- 
jjeriences are largely treated of by Mr. Tylor, in " Primitive 
Cidtore," as factors in the evolution of the conception of 
spirit — in his opinion the basis of all religion. My 
chapters are a criticism of Mr. Tylor's celebrated work on 

Once more the reviewer says: — 
Thi! iK>B«ibility of Christian iind Mo«lum influence is not 
alt^o"-''"'- ''f' ""' "f afcoiint by Mr. Lang; but, conKiduring 
th- Imriicter of lx)tli religions, that possibility 

Bni^ ciirefiillv (li.HCMmwMl by him. In <iii»' cuw 

at leant Mr. Tylor has shown tlmt the lH.-liff in tlitt Manitoii or 
" tirrat Spirit " amnTi? tho Kml Indians is a direct OMt<Mim<' of 
Ch' ' It in somewhat curious that .Mr. 

I>u, ' fact, which haa vital bearing u|x>n 

his utaiu lliti*!*. 

I have, naturally, made every eflfort to eliminate the 
chances of Christian or .Moslem influence (pp. 187-190). 
For this purpose I have chosen my evidence from tin? 
least tainte<l sources — namely, the secret tribal mysteries 
ofsavBL'  :• • ,,ifnt hymns. I also seh-ctefl 

peoj)le> •, whose insular jsisition and 

ferocious ui>Mg»' of ma<ie foreign influence im- 

probable. Next, in :  where Christian and .Moslem 

influence was most probable, the case of Western and 
Ontral Africa, I minutely examine*! (pj>. 24.3-2.50) nntl 
(in mv opinion) disprove*! Major KIlis' elalxjrate theory 
of ' Then, having rea<l Mr. 

T\ iie<jry of missionary influence 

on the Red Indian conception of " the Great Spirit," 1 
went behind (pp. 2.')2-2.o4) all possibility of missionary 
teaching in the cime of Ahone, the \irginian deity (1012). 
This example Mr. Tylor did not hapi)en to observe. 
Other instances were adduced, as in the case of Peru; 
but here the evidence is more disputable. Perliaps, 
however, .\hone will be disi)Osed of as a result of the 
missionary eft'orts of l.^if the Hed or of Hishoj) Kric — about 
whom nothing is known. Now the pre-Christian religion 
of Virginia is jjretdsely on a level with that which, in 
Africa, .Major KUis attributed to Cliristian contact. But, 
in Virginia there luul lieen no contact with Christians. I 
would gladly have <liscussed this matter of foreign 
influence " more carefully " if 1 hud discovered any means 
of doing so, or any additional evidence, or any better 
sources. With regard to Stade and others, who have not 
remarked the coexistence of very low and very high 
religious ideas among the most backward races, it is hardly 
the case that " this jjurticular coexistence has not been 
observed liefore the api>eanince of" liiy book. It was, of 
course, observed (as by Waitz), and rejwrted ujwn by 
the various witnesses whom 1 cite. Their works were as 
accessible to Herr Stade, and other authors, as to myself. 
Kut the current " ghost-theory " has become jmrt of 
)K)pular tradition, and writers do not often go behind the 
Ixwks in which it is presented. These books, of course, 
omit the facts which make against the opinion held by 
their authors, or discredit the excellent evidence, or 
assume Christian influence where it cannot lie proved. 
The re\-iewer observes that I " am inclined to believe that 
both in savage and in civilized .sjnritualism there is a 
substratutn of true jiroplietic vision or communion."' 
Now, I have again and again (p. 6, ]). 9, p. 71) disclaimed 
any belief in " spiritualism " — " a word of the worst 
associations." The reviewer goes on, " it is scarcely con- 
sistent, however" (on my part), "it may be urged, to 
express or a<lopt this view in the early l>art and then to 
trace the degeneration of religion to ])rophetic 
practices." Where is the inconsistency ? I do think 
that the faculties of living incarnate men may include 
some things not yet explained on the materialistic 
hyiwthesis as at present formulated. But where is the 
inconsistency of holding that certain savage inferences, 
drawn in i)art from these j)os8ible faculties, niigiit lead, in 
practice, to degeneration from a religion whicli (in my 
opinion) is not based on these experiences ? 

I must ajiologize for so long a letter with the excuse 
that the tojtic interests me dee])ly, and that I have been 
so unfortunate as not to make my meaning clear. 

Faitiifully yours, 

A. LANv'}. 


Sir, -This work would indeed bo undosorving of roview 
except for the interesting conHidoration to which your reviewer 
has directed himself. But, as it has Iwen mentioned in your 
columns, it may be allowed to mention a curiosity of editing 
with which tho work ends. It is said that the memoir " cannot 
end better than with some beautiful versos which apiwarod years 
ago above the name William Terriss." It is jiossible that tho 
concluding lines, though liardly the whole of them, may have 
ap])cared " above " the name of Mr. Terriss, but tho suggestion 
of authorship, the only suniciont reason for mentioning tho 
matter, cannot bo maintained. Mr. Terriss was born, according 
to " Who's who," in 1862. 'Jlio memoir gives a choice of dates, 
stating in one place that he was born February 20, 1847, record- 
ing in another his death Deceml)er 10, 18i>7, agc<l 49 years. Tlie 
vers«'S, with a garbltnl version of whicli tho memoir concludes, 

July 9, 18U8.] 


wore inmrted without signnture in Moore't Rural New Torher, 
May 31, 18fi<i, whon Mr. Torriw mny have lieon (our years ol«J, or 
eight, or nino, nocording to the difforont dittos givon for hi» 
birth. Mr. Terrisii Hoonm to hiivo Ixten ii mo<loHt and strai)>ht- 
forward miiTi, who would have shrunk from olitaiiiiii^ iTwlit for 
tho authorship of linos which ho may vory possibly have writtt-n 
out, at request, from imperfect rocolloction and siipplonivntwl 
where rocolloction failed. 

Whyto-MoK'illo ipiotcd four of tho linos, with slifjiit altera- 
tion to suit his purpose, in " Unci" .Fohn," 1374 ; hut, as ho 
was writing on his own account and not liein^ oditod, ho took 
car.' tlint In. slmulil not bo mistaken for tho author. 

W. U. LL. 


TO IHK KDlTolt. 

Sir, — Hie reviewer of "Submarine Telegraphs" in your 
issue of Juno 25 socma to supgost that thoro have l>eon 
a numlnir of "general works dealing with Submarine Tole- 
grapliy," whereas tho fact is that mine- as has lioon montionwl 
in other reviews — is tho first in tho English language. I defy 
him to name another that can come under such n hea<l with any 
sense of justice. 

I am sorry that I liave not sutticiently dwelt on the " per- 
tinacious enthusiasm," the "engineering skill," and the 
"electrical genius" of this, that, and the other prominent 
figure in early submnrino telegraphy to suit your reviewer. 
But 1 must point out that tho book was rather intended to give 
an insight into the .science and practice of its subject than as a 
series of biographies of the various individuals who took so 
conspicuous a ])art in tho early pioneering thereof. 

In point of fact, other reviewers, who appear for tho daily 
Press, to have looked for the same sort of semi-romantic 
material, seem to have found it in sufficient quantities, as well as 
the political bearings of the subject. 



Tlio next nnml>er of LU'raturi' will contatin a poem by 
William Wilfrid Gibson. " Among My Books " will be a study 
of Sheridan by M. Abel Chevalley. Tho issue will also contain 
tho second part of "Hatteras," by Mr. A. E. W. Miismi. wh'wh will 
bo concluded in the following number. 

t * ■» * 

Dean Farrar, dm-ing his brief intervals of leisure, is at work 
upon tho volume wo mentioned as in cimtemplation some six 
montlis ago. It is not namnd yet, but will bear some such title 
as " Texts Explained." It was Dean Farrar's general habit as 
examining chaplain to sot a paper in which some tliirty texts 
weni printed from the Authorized Version. In many in»t<inces 
a mere knowledge of tho Revised N'ersion— oven without any 
familiarity witli (ireek — would have suthced to enable the candi- 
date to give the true meaning of the text ; yet it appears that it 
was quite common to get only three out of the thirty texts 
corrected or explained in their real significance. The Dean's 
book will be in no sense a continuous commentary on the New 
Te.stament, but will only fiwnisli all readers of ordinary intelli- 
genco with facts which will give them a much bcttt-r and truer 
knowledge of the meaning of the Bible than most men seem to 
acquire. In this volume there will probably Iw no 8(iaco to deal 
with tho misinterpreted texts in the Old Testament. 
• «  « 

" China in Transformation " is tho title of the work by Mr. 
Ai-chibald R. Colquhoun abojitto be published by Messrs. Harper 
an<l Brothers. Mr. Colquhoun, who was formerly Deputy Com- 
missioner for Burma, Administrator of Mashonaland, and 
special corresjwndent of T/i. Timen, approaches the problem 
presented by the afiairs of China from the jioint of view of the 
English-siieaking and Teutonic races, bvit he has endeavometl to 

d«Ml wit»' •*•« '■•■••- — ' 

th<MM> il ' 

platre in !"ri. i n 

the 4'vid' ! in thin % 








The Rev. G. W. B ,il . Wr.t Kniehton- 

with-Broad-Mayno, I' <ir of  c <»k 

of •loshiia, entitle<l " '!•■' '•'» Hoct,' '-ta 

and {lamphletH, tho most imfiortant of . irjr 

point of view, is " A New Kxplanation <'i - ii<-« in 

Kceontiling the two Gonealoirioft of Christ." 'MfA in 

prejwiring an . ml 

Lazarus I't Ijjr 

Messrs. S. W. !>;. iIm, till... •• U«r« and 

Hereafter ; or, Li  

« • • • 

A great man might If ^ no donht ar.!fli.til«I!v l^tt 

still usefully, as one who is intt*r<.<*t«d in v »ra 

{lerennially interesting to humanity. If ' ba 

accepted, Mr. George Moore has just been com n's 

claim to grei' ' ' '' trr 

(in-.rtir, the i- a 

moral purpo^e. i njcrs of 

lAlrraturr will ri ; 'liDH^Uy 

contrary to Mr.'i.. Aiiktoilo .-ct 

of art was to imitate nature in il«  .m, 

while tho author of " Evel^-n Innos " thinks; i>h<>uld 

bo tho handmaid of an ethical purposo. It in - "<«iuar}' 

at this time of day to thresh out once mora this very old con- 
troversy : for of course the groat (ireek philo»>pli«r was wholly 
in tho right ; art qua art has no concern whatever with th* 
moral world. Literature, |>ainting, music are primarily aa<t 
essentially instruments for tho creation of iMiaaty. and thora is 
no !  it lie 

an<i an 

interplay intlwu^u tiiu Ch" ' art aiei ok 

which is " go<id " art ma_\ "goiHl" lay 

say this at least— Uiat the roan who sincerely and earnestly 
atlmires and understands the bast art in the Iwst wav is lik.Iv to 
be free from many of the mora odious vic^- 

•  • * 

Yet even this connexion batwean condnct and ctaation, 
slight as it is, must not be dacread with too m<. ' ' "ur and 
rigour." The Italian Renaissanoa was, oartin itcd to 

a'sthetics, and '■ "m the 

critical and creat, ik very 

favourably of the mui .irwl 

Bi'nvonuto Cellini, an ^ . .»«ir» 

licence to declare that tho porio<l was one oi the utmost 
wickedness nml ''"miption. In Kn-Iiml. m-iin. una may 
sus{)ect tliat I ai ethics I yi'hic)> 

Elizabethan ..w. ...til, so it ii ,..•...,. ,....u *ke the 

rule we must also allow a lilx-ral margin for exmptions. Really. 
it seems the safest plan, on tht ' ' •■  . upharm 

widely apart, not to let our ley the 

man interfere witl> to 

try to persuade o' lea 

because ho ^^ -•« ixwiain " 

ia a pretty ^• f names, w» 

know quite weit that it ia not a true propoaitu 

» •  - 

Mr. J. A. Steuart, who answers Mr. (J.-^r.;- -Mf».>n' m the 
n'fftmimttr, has hardly gone to the root of the iiiuUer. 

Kemembering [he >.>t»] what Dirkou rfff>rtcil, roc must wlmit that 
the nnrri - " -.rpoee occasiooally sarvas its sad Slid coatiauas ia 


Mr. Steuarc might have gotte f urthar : tba "novel with a 
ptu-pose " is occasionally a great and permanant work of art. 



[July y, 1898. 

But — ami h«r» is th« erarial point — th« wsthetic value of such a 
book is always perfectly apart from it* ethical puriwsv. The 
writer's intellect persuade* him to inilite a tnn-t ; liiii);Miii)s, the 
spirit of the "old ecstatic dancers," as Mr. Yeata would nay, 
trMMOUlta* th<> tract into an artistic niost^Tpifcp. Tho |«lmary 
fn****** " of this is " Don <^uixot'>," int^ii<l<><1, as we know, fur a 
borlaaqne on books thnt havo N < tten, but moultlo<I 

by aaoM inner working into an ii . nnd, in a losscr 

dogree, "The Pilgrim'ti IVoj^toss ' and " The Cloi«t«>r luid the 
Haarth " bare treapasDvd far Iwrond the controvorsial plans of 
their authors into happier, romantic fields. We must not judge 
the book by the author's plans or intentions, but by his 
achievement, since often when tlie rational man puts lead into 
the crucible, the BU|)er-rationitl creator intervenes, and changes 
witii admirablo art the dull, worthless mass to gold. 

•  « » 

All interested in tlio late Lord Leighton's work have now the 
«|q>urtunity, br writing for ennls of admisKiun to the lion, secre- 
tary of tho Loi;;liti.n IJouso Fund, 2, Holland-ptirk-road, W., of 
visiting the beautiful house on Wwlnestlays or Saturtlays between 
the hours of 11 and 7 during the month of July. It is an oppor- 
tunity not to be lost. Mrs. tSuUicrland Urr and Mrs. Matthews, 
Lord Leighton's sisters, have lately presented an additional 
number of fiOO drawings, and Mr. U. F. Watta, R.A., has 
sent a painting much prized by him as having been given him 
by Lonl I^ighton many years ago, and other friends have sent 
apeciniens of the painter's work to be fitly enshrinecl in his 

beautiful home. 

• • « « 

The spirit of the ]>ainter still pervades the house ; the 
fountain sings as it use<l to sing in tho Arab Hall. On the stair- 
way is tho life-like bust in bronze, wrought by tho sculpt<ir 
Brock : a replica of this stands in the Hoyal Aoidemy. In tho 
tipper rooms the studies which represent every phase of Lord 
Leight<in's work are place«l round the proof i>rint8 of his greatest 
pictures, thus showing how tho picture grew in the artist's mind. 

• »  « 

The promoters of this monument have before them tho idea 
not only of making this house an art library, but also a home of 
that branch of art which Lord Leighton so delighte<l in — 
chamber music, which, under the guidance of Mr. Fuller Mait- 
land, l>r. Hubert Parry, l>r. Stanford, Mr. Somervellu, and 
others is in process of formation. 


Amongst contributors and members of the committee which 
wsa forme<l to secure the collection of Lord Leighton's drawings 
may b«! mentioned :— The Prince of Wales, the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, the Archbishop of York, tho Earl of Kosebery, tho 
Bishop of London, tho Hichop of Winchester, Lord Tennyson, 
Sir John Lubbock, Mr. .\lfred de Kothschild, Mr LeoiKild 
Rothschild, Sir W. Richmond, R.A., Mr. O. F. Watts, R A., 
Mr. F. (J. Jackson, R.A., Mr. Geo. Aitchison, R.A., Mr. 
Holman Hunt, Mr. Walter Crane, Dr. Hubert Parry, Hen- 
Joachim, Canon Rawnsloy, and others. 

• « • * 

M. de Coubertin, who [irotcstcd the other day in our columns 
against tho anti -classical lecture of M. Jules Lcmattre, has found 
• valuable ally in M. Anatole France. The cry against tho 
classical discipline is old enough in England ; it is now many 
yoars sine* we first heard that the manhoo<I of the nation was 
being aappeil by sapphic*. that little c<>ul<l be ex]»-cted from a 
yotith wh«««» rpinntities were correct, that Horace and ^■irgil 
jointed the way to the road of ruin. Tliere are still, indeed, 
persons who talk in this vein, who urjie tho ini|M)rtanc« of care- 
ful diaaection to true culture, who dwell on the lienuties of ex- 
(icrimental chemistry regarded as an instrument for the forma- 
tion of character ; but they have at least this justification— that 
in England the classics are still regarded as essential to the 
making of an etlucated or cidturod man. On the other side of 
the Cliannel, however, it is difTernnt, as M. Anatole ITance is 
csrvful to |ioint out in his recent article in L'f>ho dr I'arU. 

Un a'spiirrtHi plus \r Utin iIsim Ii« r<il|rK<-<. N«« hu-belien Dc If 
■s. Je ae parie pM da rmr, qa'ilsn'oDt jamais so. 

The French student, occording to M. Prance, spends seven or 
eight years at college learning to S|>eak <iermaii and English — 
Germon which tho (termans understand with dilHculty, and 
English which the English do not understand at all. 
» « « « 

But M. Anatole France's text will attract Knglish readers 
even n)on< than his discourse, since England has had the honoiu' of 
furniKhing the distinguished French lHUiatrur with an example 
which proves his <'ast<. 

Di'puii <li'(ix sua, un jcunc Anglais, un scholar de Canibri<l|;e qui 
<-l«it <lrvenu num nnii spri-ii avoir lu de mcs livri'H, it <iu<' jr ne con- 
naiiuuiis pia, nrndreuait dcs luttrrs co tt^'inoignage de sympathii' ; Ics 
uui-s £taient {-critrs <lnns un cxcflli'nt fr.invniR, It's autn'ii en distii{u<'S 
latins, 11 Vint m« voir cot hivcr, itant dc paiwagi- A I'aris. II portait 
une t^te enfantinc et grave sur uu grand mriM atlili'tii|ui-. Jo le trouvai, 
danx aes fsfons et dans stvt parolt-n, ralmi-, simple ct rt-solu, tri'S peu6tr£ 
da Beutimeut d<- sa rraponimbilitc et riviuil dana un £tat de libert£ 
iutellertuellf que niaintt-nant on ne convoit guOre en France. II aUait 
dans rougancia oil il devait gouvemer, & vingt ana, avec une poign6e de 
soldat.s, de va.ites tirritoirea. 

" On peut etre a la fois latinisto et colon " is the moral drawn 
by M. Franco for tho l>enefit of M. Lomaitru. In England tho 
position would liurdly require defence or argument, ami the fact 
that in France a liberal oiluciition is regarded as a doubtful a*l- 
vantago or rather as a drawback seems to sliow that, intellectu- 
ally, tlomocracy has its weak side. 

 «  « 

The subject is further illustrated by the finjiu'fe which has 
been made by the French Heme ih.i Kernes on the question of the 
tfjtrii fran^aif. The July number of the Iterue contains tho 
results of this inipiiry in the form of letters receivo<l from MM. 
Henry IV'renfror, Michel Hrdal. .lules Clarotio, Francois Coppt'o, 
Anatole France, Remy de Gourmout. Sidly-Prudhomme, and many 
others. Three questions had been {>ut t<} those gentlemen : — 

1. Is there surli n tliiiif^ sm th** etprit fntifiin ? 

2. If s<i, how is it to lie defined? 

3. Can a foreigner ne<|uire it ':■ 

And in almost every instance the replies affirm tho existence of 
the esjirit fraii^iiU, and declare that lucidity or elarte is its dis- 
tinguishing mark— its differentia, to use the language of logic. 
M. Romy de Gourmout, indeed, denies this ; Rabelais and Ron- 
sard, he says, were by no moans lucid, but his colleagues are 
practically unanimous in concluding that French literature is 
marke<l off by its sense of rule, nieasuro, precision, ami, al>ove 
all things, by its lucidity. Not a single voice tries to |>crsuade 
us that the French genius makes for mystery, symbolism, or the 
" fairy waj- of writing," so that, unless these representative men 
of letters are strangely ignorant of their own literature, the 
remarks which we made on the subject some time ago are con- 
firme<l on the very Insst evidence. French is the language of 
logic, of the formal luiderstanding, that which it apprehends it 
apprehends clearly and excellently ; but its vision is limited 
and it knows nothing of ecstasies or mysteries. 

« • «  

It is strange, however, that none of these eminent French- 
men seems to havo divined tliat nuality whicli. after all, gives 
their language its su|iremu charm, (tne of the writers is enthu- 
siastic over tho merits of a geometrical demonstration in French. 
This is well enough ; a clear jToof, a clear description, all will 
allow, are excellent things in their way. The hint of the 
unseen would bo wholly out of (dace in Euclid. But French has 
a far higher ipiality than ])lain R|M'aking. Above all languages, 
surely, it is the s[H)ech of comedy, it breathes that aroma of 
urbanity which is so essential to tho true comic spirit, and to 
English oars, .at all events, tho French sentence seems resonant 
of that |>olito laughter wliich sounded in eighteenth century 
mhmt. 'I'aino noted the gross traiiNformation which took j>lace 
when an old French comedy was rondoriKl into English ; there 
was a vile alchemy which transninU'd delicate, Hiibtio wit into 
brutal horso-plsy and vulgar mirth. In a word, farce enters, 
almost inevitably, into nil English conunlies, or if not farce then 
a species of savagery which makes tho would-be comedy seem 
tragic. In vain does the Restoration dramatist tryto set the courtly 
gallant on the stage ; the fellow is a puritan at heart and sins 

July 'J, 1898.] 



us if hu (lid ponaiKM), conioiouR that hit |ieriwi|{ ami hi* grteeit 
do not huconio liini. Franco can iihow nothing like tliu humour 
of DickonH, whicli tiorderR on the )rrotoii()u«), and thereforu on 
the niyiitorioua, non-rationiil element ; hut uur comedy too uften 
rti84'mtil(m a uountrymun's attempt to ilanco the minuet in 

• « * * 

The posthumous vohime of the Tlittiltru Tomplpt of 
Aluxandro Diniiiis _/i/ii, of wliich wo iinnouncod the a in 

our nMinl)Of for Miirch '2Ct, in now piil>liHhml under t tie, 

" Notes," iind fortna tho ei^jhth voiumn <>! Onmas' unlleirted 
works jmblishod liy Cnhnnnii Liivy. Strictly Bituuking, tluiro is 
nothing now in this liook, hut there is a grtint deal of matter 
not hithorto ucvosHible. The " Notes "' were written for 
the famous edition known as the £iliti<m iU» Comfdien*, but 
the smnll numlter of copies printed wore nover on sale. These 
roniiirkiiblo documents oonstituti) a sort of imcoinparul)lo series of 
sclwliii, not merely of tho bihliographio or reminiscent sort, but 
of tliat chiss wliioh throws lij;ht on an iiuthor'ii motives and 
theory of life. The number of iileaa wliich, as this book shows, 
were in ferment in the mind of tho author of " Le Demi 
Monde," '• La Dame aux Camolias," " Lo Fils Naturol," and 
•' L'Ami dos Femmos," i« astoiiisliiii', nml li.. Ik •ilwiiv.j sur- 
prisingly suggestive. 

•  . ^ 

In his new volume, " Dramo Ancien, Drame Mo<lerno " 
(Colin), M. Kmilo Faguot discusses many of tho questions rai8u<l 
by these notes of Aloxsmdro Dumas, and displays that ipinlity of 
hunioin- so characteristic of M. Fiiguot. Ho asks the (piextion, 
" What, after all. is the nature of dramatic omotion ? " and his 
reply is that our pleasure at tho play is based on malignity ; 
that there is no essential diireronco between comedy and 
tragedy; that, in a word, "the theatre exploits in us the 
tendency which we have to find pleasure, in one way or another, 
with laughter or with tears, in another's misfortune, without 
RUtforing ourselves." Tho chapter on " Tragedy and the French 
Classical Spirit " is a ma.sterpiece of lucid detinition of the 
faults and ipialities of the French mind. It would be ilillicult to 
itind a more brilliant statement of the distinctions Iwtweon 
French and other literatures. 

* ■»  » 
X'arious erroneous statements have been circulated concern- 
ing tho change in the proprietorship of the Idler. The fact is 
that the magazine has been acipiircd from Mr. Dent by the 
syndicate wliich recently founded the Lomlon Krvifm, and will be 
edited, in conjunction, by Mr. Edwin Oliver and Mr. Oswald 

 «  » 

The Century Company, of New York, has brought out 
Professor James IJryco's admirable .study of the life of Mr. 
Cladstono which was originally publishcil in America as an 
obituary notice in the Now York Kreiiimi I'oni. It will <1oubtlus8 
have a largo sale, for of all the statesmen of motlern times it is 
safe to say that Gladstone was most highly esteemed among 
Americans. Indeed, so great is the regard for his character on 
the other side of tho ocean that few people in America un<lor- 
stand tho mistrust which it inspired in the minds of a very large 
class of Knglishmen. This mistrust Professor Bryce has very 
cleverly explained, and ho has also made clear to Ameriuan 
readers many other of Mr. Glad.«tone's traits which had puz!th>d 
students of his career. The only grievance the .\meriains ever 
had against Mr. Uladstone was his expression of respect for Mr. 
.leH'erson Davis and for the Confederacy during the late Civil 
^Var : Imt at the time of his death very little was said in the 
Northern Press with regard to this mistake, which, after all, was 
very courageously acknowledged a few years lat«r. Mr. Brj-co's 
book may serve to indicate how ilr. (iladstone, by the bent of 
his mind and sympathies, had been led into the indiscretion. 
« « « * 

The Macmillan Company, of New Y'ork, has arranged to 
tring out " Representative English Conie<lie8," edited by well- 
known American scholars, among others. Professor George E. 

Woodberry and ProfoMor Oeorge R. Owivator, of Colaalite 
University, and I>rofeaaor O. P. Uaker, of HarraH. 

• • • • 

Mr. Gilbert Parker was roetintiv alaHatl a life nwmber of tba 
Itoyal S 1. the degrM of 

1>CL. ; ■,pro he hs'l jiwt 

deliveretl a luuturu ua " Tho Art o» VnnKm 

• • • . 

M. \'ictor .Margiutritte—the ton of the Ueiiorai Maripieritte 
who was kille<l at .'^erlan, and part auf?: - •' ' ' -'..r, 
Paul .Marguoritte, of " I» IMsastre "is uie 

of p<K)try under the title " Au Kil de l'H<" 

• • • 

Mr. A. Quille '• ' ' .n 

make its first n\ .<, 

This is "Q.'s " first lung woik »ii>cu " T1h> Blue Paviltuus.' 

• • • • 

Tho " Uronto " i ),• 
AVilliam Brown. luixUn-. ,rs 
of the Hov. P. Brr>nt«» incumlMincy, w .it 
Sotheby's on Sutimlay last. It lei.l Ik mo- 
tion would have boon secured ent ml 

with that object the an. - ,|a 

107 lots in one bid, tho' :.,. 

ceodetl to soli the "relics ii •.,. 

The highest sum realizc<l vca ,,f 

Charlotte Bi if. 

The copy of ' ' '§ 

daughter, by ' r, 

clipptnl by hii __ icr 
for 34s. For tho majority of the articles, however, there was no 
offer, while others sold for such triflinr •xmia «* Is. and Is. Od. 

The reason of what amounts to a vl ' > is to be souaht 
fur, no doubt, in the fact that many <.i ui..-..- - ' - r.i only 

distantly connecte<I with the family. The t ware 

realized for articles associated with c ' -n- 

graph letter of hers dated Juno 1"'. . :id 
another signed " C. B." for 40b. 

• • •  

The first part has just lieen iMuetl of the catalogue of the 
Dante collection presented by Mr. Willard Fiake to ti,.. r.,rT,M|| 
University Library. Tliis collection, whioh is und le 

most complete of its kind in tho world, has been;.'<.<i l,y 
Mr. Theodore W. Koch, the author of a well-known bibliof^raphy 
of American Dante literature. Some idea of it may )« 

gathered from tho fact that this instalment > iI>i>rno, 

dealing only with . " to 

more than ninety  h 

in the rare i ,]. 

mmlia." It li ,,f 

1472, which is genernily iielil to lie the tiittio ftnmrrpt), aa 
against fourteen in tho British Museum, out of n ix^oiKl.. mno. 
teen. If duplicates be rcckono<l, however, the ! n 

can Imaat twenty-four. Nevertheless, Mr. Fiske^ .in i> ,i-iy 
cre<litable, seeing that his collection was only commenced in the 
present decade. 

• • • 

The gem ot tt of the very scire- 

priiwf/M of the " V  Terra." Of (i..- \\y.- 

knon-n to exist one Utit, \Kvn recvutly aC' 
Museum, while the other four are in It.n 
Among tho tr.r .is many as t 

elusive of Ital' s) are rspresei 

Basque, Bohemian, mtMlern Greek, H< 
Russian, and Volapuk '. The second p... . 
deal with the confused mass of literature 
works which has accumulated in almost evi - 
since the poet's death, and it will be no ^: 

onler out of this chaos, for Dante was so man\ -.-uleil that the 
subjects of controversy in connexion with his writings are wall- 
nigh inexhaustible— as Varchi said long ago, " DioMido Dwito 
mi pare insieme con questo noroe dire ogni oosa " 1 



[July 1), 1898. 

To Um collector of first editions Mr. Walter T. Spencer's 
(37, New Oxford-ttreet, W.C.) catalogues are a nover-failing 
source of pleasure. In tlie new imuu the Oruikshank suction 
contains many very rare item;, notably a prcoentation copy of 
" The Umnibus," 1841-2, inscribe*] '• with Mr. Cniilcshnnk's 
oompta." ; a choice copy of tlio first issue of the first o<lition of 
" Tl»e Humourist." 181S)-'20 ; and a Inrpt-ixaiwr ropy of David 
Cari>y's '• Life in fSri*." Thi> Dickons entriuH ari' also numerous, 
bat |>erhap« the ' r.>stin}; of those aru includi-d under tlio 

beading of " Di< Thu K. L. Stevenson items inchido 

the autopniph Ms. of liis contribution to the " Hooks which 
Have Inrtucnnod Me " sorios, which appeared in the liritinh 
Wtelh in 1887, and for which £40 is aske<]. A complete set of 
the first e.Iition8 of Charlus Levur,18:»-1872, is price<l at £88 10s. 
■»  « « 

The Glasgow Pen and Pencil Club is at present carrying out 
a laudable scheme for marking with coinnicinorativo tablets 
those buildings and places in the city which, owing to their 
historical or literary associations, are of 8]M>cial interest. Five 
bronse tablets are now in course of preparation, intended to 
mark — (1) the site of the house where Tliomas Do Quincey lived 
from 1811 to 184^1 : (2) tlio ^tenement in which Edward Irving 
resided, and where Thomas Carlyle visited him in 1820 ; (3) the 
site of^he tenement in which Sir Thomas Moore, of Corufm, was 
bom ; (4) the tenement in which the Scottish poet, William 
Motherwell, the centenary of whose birth was celebrated in 
October last, was bom ; and (5) the site of the old Glasgow 
College— now a railway station. 


It is also proposed to erect a memorial tablet in Glasgow to 
oommemorate William Glen, the author of the exquisite .Jacobite 

ballad, " Wae's niu for Prince Charlie " — perhaps the most 
1>eautifiil of the many Scottish ballads which owe their origin to 
the '4ft. (ileii, who was born in (Jlasgow in 178'.), died in that 
city in 1827, at the afro of thirty-seven, and is buried in tho 
historic " liamshorn " cliurchyard. For some years he occiipi<Kl 
a prominent jiosition in commorcia! circles, but he was unfortu- 
nate in business. A brilliant conversationalist, his company wiks 
much sought after, and he beoanio connccUil with Neveral of tho 
convivial clubs which then lUnirished in Glasgow. Like Hums, 
his conviviality was not always kept within bounds, and his gifts 
pontributeil to his undoing, fie was the author of a consideiablo 
number of poems, numy of which were sold to the booksellers a.t 
quickly as they were written, and wore printed and published as 
" broiulsides. " None of them, however, will for a moment com* 
pare with his justly famous •' Wae's me for Prince Charlie." 
« « « « 

Messrs. Chapman and Hall are publishing " Tho Modem 
French l>rama," by M. Kilon, with an introduction by W. L. 
Courtney. The book is mainly designed to show how Naturalism 
has atthe present moment been siipersedeil bj'the romantic revival, 
illustrateu in •' Lo Ohomineau" and "Cyrano do IJorgerac." The 
author will offer a few suggosliona as to the origin of tho 
chief features in the existing movement. There will be chapters 
on tho Age of Dumas and Augier, Naturalism on tlie State, The 
Tht<4trb Libre, Tho New Comedy, Kdmond HoHtand, and .lean 
Richepin, &c. 

« «  * 

The same publishers aiinoiinco "The I'lay of Animals," by 
Professor Groos, which will be the first work written exclusively 
on the subject. Tho author will develop a system of animal play 
on tho biological theory as a basis, and treatof tho iMtyclinloL'iciil 
aspects of play. 

 ■» »  

Messrs. Chapman and Hall also announce Mr. Bonnet Uur- 
leigh's " Sirdar and Khalifa, or the Keconquest of the Soudan," 
and " Sketches by iloz " in thonewGadshill Edition of Dickens. 


Oeneral Si: ;!i.- >   

Jt : 


I Meade, 


aii.l Il.i.:' .,v, l-'i-. 

l»i)t;timrt>. IfK. tkl. n. 

The Dictionary of National 

r. V. stow— 



Mil. III. Killer, lis. 

Tho Method of Teaching 
Modern LanKua^esIn Ger- 
many. Hi Aliii ,/ l.j;l:n. r. M.A. 

7) • .'iln . vU. • Tl pp. 

l.<.n.l.i:i. 1- 
< liu. 1-. I»l. 
Plautu»:Captlvl. A Tr.--'i'|. . 

cs : Andr 

 . M. ^. I- 

Modern I • • 

I - 


Hv EUa 




The Courtship 


The W. 


Little Folks. The Ma<razlno 
^'Arl. Cussell's Magazine, 
'i he Contemporary Review, 
The Practical Teacher. The 
United Service Mafcazlne. 
Mncmlllan's Magazine. The 
Centur.v Majfazlne. Temple 
Bar. St. Nicholas. Middlesex 
and Hertfordshire Notes 
and Queries. Longmans' 
Magazine. The ArKosy. The 
Gentleman's Mas-nzlne. The 
Reliquary and Illustrated 
ApchsBolog^lst. Blackwood's 
Macazlne. The University 
Macazlne. Cosmopolls. The 
PuDlIc School MoKazlne. 
The New Centur.v Review. 
The National Review. The 
Genealogical MaKuzine.Tho 
Antiquary. The Journal of 
Finance. 'The Law Quarterly 
Review, Knowledge. 

A Handbook to the IVork- 
men's Compensation Act, 

I8D /. H) U. .1/. Minlnn Si iiliuiiHl 

aiiU (J. /■'. Ktiurti, LI...M. "i - .',iii,, 
vll. + llM pp. Ixindon. IMK. 

H<'iiiro-o, Irt. n, 

CatalOK^ue of the Dante Col- 
lection I'l. • >■■' '•. \Vh'.,,,I 
H»l(c-. (on 
Korh. Vnr 

lOJ-Wn.. Iv. ... ,., i 

York). I'fW. 

(oriKll Inlvcrtilty Ubmrr. 

rooknev <"rltloa and thelp 

' , '  I r ■■'... Ity JunhSM 

.. 'Sli ifii. l>.>n<ioii. 

The Pllflrrlm's l 

John Jtunvtin. t . 

  »ill.. Xif. t :«l IM 1. ■,.:. n. I-M-. 

Ii'iil. 1-. M. n. 

t udlos of a BIOKraphcr, lly 

Stritltilt. .'4i".. 

1 pp. lAiW*'. 


1 KO Don 

tia, I'liin- 

' ' fiiintiH 


Cromwell's Scotch Cam- 
palsrns. lti,i<ijl. B.v I/'. S. 
Doinilax. i»Jx61n., X.+3US pp. Lon- 
don, 18SIS. Slock. 

The New En«rllsh Dictionary. 

Vol. V. Ilaviri-ini- 111 il. ICil. by 

l>r. J. A. 11. Miirruii. Kl* >: lOJhi.. 

pp. IW U) IU2. Lonilon ami Oxfunl, 

l.siis. Kiiiwili^ 2s. (Id. 

Financial Sketches, lly IMcne 

(:ii,i,i<il'l and 1)11,11,11 llardu- Itx 

liin.. H."i pp. London, isus. 

Thr rolillnbil?. I'ub. Co. Is. II. 
Scottish Life and Humour. 

Itv Willimit siiiiluir. 7Jx.)in., 

Ilil pp. lliulililiK'K'n. 1««. 

Sin'lair. is. (id. 
Ninth Annual Report of the 

H 1 Public Library. 

' 'fin., 1>> pp. llaniill^fn, 

" . <pl'«'I.i! 1 1!- I 'rin: itil^Co. 

Duiui£>aiina : Del i! A 

l'ii-^;iK-f in iiiry. 

Willi -oiiic olliur l'n)Ku 

anil VcfHc'. lly 1M„ r( l-,iu<"">n, 
K.-^.V. I x4lin.,xii. : intipp. L< ndon, 
l.'Ci.'i. .Stock. 

Snazelleparllla. Iii'cnnled by 
O. S. hUl,i;ir<ln. 1 11111.1 ralod. 7|x 
5in., ITii pp. l..oniloii, irt»s. 

Clmlto. 3t4. 6U. 


 .. Uy KrniM H. Volrrulpc. 
. nil pp. I/indon and New 

, !.<!«. I ■'■- (111. n. 

Nocturnes, and I lly 

/{rr ir l/oor.. . pil. 

1 .-iiock. 

Poi % lly Mm. Ijonoi'taff'. 

,: I.<>ndi>n, IHKt. 

Episodes of Joy. Uy Tcm/tl, 

yrinll. 7)/ .'iln., vi.+2n8pp. l.on- 

don. IM'.W. I)lKl,y. Look. 3s. tkl. ii. 
Postloal Stories. Ity SInunton 

llrwli, . 7i • .■in., vl. • IIM pp. Ixiii- 

don. INilS. ilinliy. I.OIIIC. ;iH. (111. n. 
By Shamrock and Heather. 

lly Wiilmrr Dnirni. 7i ".'illi., vlil. I 

3.y.ipp. I.ondon. IWI. 

IllilV.r. T.nnr. 1-. 
\jm Gee 1 1 - ' 



Iron and Steel Brld^'es and 

Viaducts, iiv I'niii'in <'(uiiuiii. 

C.E. ix^iin.. 2MII pp. I,i>ndun, 18!^. 

Crosby. I.«ck«oo<t. ;iw. 8<i. 


On Plain and Peak. .Spurtine 

ami otiici Skrii IwHiii liolicrniaand 

Tyrol. Hv Uamliil))!, U. llmUiMn. 

UxUin., vill.+l»l jip. London. ISIIS. 

ConHlablr. 7k. (id. 

The Psycholog-y of the Saints. 

Hy llinri ./ol/i. Willi a i'rofaci) 
by (;. Tyrrill. S..I. "j • 4Jin., xv.+ 
1S4 pp. I.oiidon.i.s!i8. iJuck worth. .•!». 

Saint Augrustlne. Hy .1. //n<-. 
.Irtd. 'i'miHliiliil by K. llolL TJx 
Ijln.. X. i i.V. pp. I.oniliPii. iKiW. 

Diiikworili. ;i«. 

Tin Tacks for Tiny Folks, 
and otlnT Outline .XildresseH. ^^y 
ChnrlcH l'Ulwiirtl.t. 7)  1 Jin., IS) pii. 
Ixiiidun. iXW. AlieiiHon. 2". (kl. 

By Sea Marfre, Marah, and 

Mere. Hy ll'illUim Unit. 7-. 

4]in., Wl pp. i don. I.siis. 

.^iinpkin. .Mar^liiiU. Ih.u. 
The History of Lands-uard 

Fort In SulTolk. Hy Mnjor J. 

II. !.,sli,\ iii;^7iin.. xvl.fill pp. 

London. i.Siis. 

Kyrv ^ .^poU iHwiMMle. 12^. 
The Place- Names of the 

Liverpool District. Hy Urnru 

llorriiton. Sx.'iliii., 101 pp. j|..oniinn, 

i^elK. .siiM-k. 

A Corner of Old Cornwall. ;inl 

l-:d. Hv /•;. Himliiim. (ij.ljin., 

xvil. 1 -iil pp. I,oiidon. ISIS. 

Tile l.'iiifcirn HrcKh. ,1k. Od, 
AVolfe-Land. .\ IlandlxKik to 

Wi;Hl(;iiiiiiii and iU .^iirroiindlnKs. 

Uy (lUimut t hiimpHon. i^x&ln., 

L'lilpp. lyondon.lKtW. Hreeliiat(s.6d.n. 

The Great Western Rallwa.v 
Co.'s Tourist Guide to the 

C. •■' '. Kit.\iy I ■ii;i/ 1. inilliy. 

: p. (ill. 

Tl" h Tourlnf Club's 

' >weden, Willi Mn\»^ 

'.jx^jin., xlii. I its pp. 

riiiiip. Cf**. 





Leading Article— Poetic Drunm 

"Ainongr my Boolts," by AIh'1 ('lii'v:ilic>y 

Poem "'Pill' Viilcof Dread," liy Wilfrid WiJNon Oitwon 

" Hatteras," II., l)y A. K. W. Ma.son 


Htuilii'S of IV Hioj{r!i|iliPr 

I^iiiKuistic and Uritmial EUsays 

t'yriiiio do Hcrgenic 

Kccoiit Vt-rs*! — 

Till' Itovnlntlonof St. \m\o tlio DIvIno -Tlio Shiuluw of U)Vp- 
I'orsophono — Love Sontcx and Klcglos -Tho Li'tlo C'hriHtinii 
Yimr — Vorrtiw ~ Kandoni KbymcH — Hoonu — Tontatlvw — 

YiofrtraHll -.SpriiiK SonK 29,30, 

Tli(> Horse ami the Doj? — 

()\ir Kricnd tlie Horse— KetriovotN and How to llrcak Thoin HI, 
Tile Cliristiaii Year 

Minor Notices— 

Tlio Koroiicn Soiircox of Modern KnKlixh VcrnlflcnUon— N'eohcllonic 
IjimKUKKu and Liur iijii-.> ih,. I ii.tMn I If., .if K'tinbutKh 







Fiction — 

Tl»e Forest Lovers 30 

Kxotic lleroiiip.s — 

Sonoritii Montoniir -A Bride of Japan — Hljll the Dancer— The 
Ilomanoo of a Nanteh (iirl— Hassan : A Fellah— A Maori Maid 
- -An Krfyptian Coquette ;j) 

American Letter —By W. D. Howells 41 

Foreign Letters - Franee, by Gabriel Monod {2 

From the Magazines 44 

Coppospondence — Mr. Oladstone'n Horace — The Sterility of 
(Jxfonl 44, 45 

Notes 4.-), 40. 47. 48 

List of New Books and Reprints 4.S 



III one of ^'icto^ Hugo's imfressioiw de voyage he 
makes the rather happy oomparison of the poplar to tlie 
Alexandrine, fle.-fcribin^ eiu-li of them as " one of the cla.><sic 
forms of Iwredom." For so extensive a planter of metrical 
poplars as the author of " llernani," which contains, if we 
recollect rightly, a row of some two hundred of them 
planted side by side in a single speech without a break, 
the gilw is rather a curious one. Perhaps the great 
Uomautie resented his inability to free P'rencli drama from 
the fetters of this time-honoured metre ; jwssibly he envied 
the liberty of Shakespearian blank-verse. Or he may even 
have regretted at times that he could not transfer some of 
the magnificent rhap.sodies of his prose romances to the 
stage without having to submit them to the bondage of 
rhyme. These sentiments, however, if tliey existwl, must 
have been transient. The jwet himself continued to roll 
out his sonorous Alexandrines throughout his whole career 
as a dramatist, and his dram.atic successors, when they have 
attempted what may be calletl serious romantic drama, 
have apparently never thought of abandoning this metrical 
Vol. III. No. 2. 



Published hv ^tti* 7\\n*i 

form. Here, for inittance, i« thi« latntl niiii mo*' 

8U<' ■"■•' >f them, V ■•' ' ■•   

sto! iilartenil' 

dramatic manner, han tokl it to the jierfect urn 

his public, and, indeed, to the t —'-^ •' 

critics, in a Inxly of Alexandi : 

thousand strong — a line of jwplars which, if they really 

repn"sented boredom, must surely «eenj to a playgoer to 

" stretch out to the crack of doom." 

The French public, however, have followed it with 

intense delight Iwth on the 'in* 

"cent et unieme niille " on . . , ...led 

version also. It is its theatrical succesM with which we are 
here concerned, ' •••d 

during the last I" ^ . ,_ -''W 

to us all that group of singularly interesting que«itioDs 
which are at once i. ' " " i.e 

literature, and still III- _ _ ud 

and France. No doubt it would be easy to attach too 

much imjKirtance to the admiring well-. .-n 

accordetl to M. Kostand's play by i .-a. 

Fashion and "the correct thing to do" unquestionably 
count for something in this welcome ; the genius of 
M. Co<juelin, great enough to break down many if not 
all the barriers of language, coants for more ; but the 
most im])ortant factor of all in the Ix>ndon success 
of Vyraito de Bertferac is it.s genuinely dramatic 
quality, the admirable constructive skill of its author, 
and the sustained interest of it« »' ' - and 
jmthetic story. These last consideraih wever, 

only serve to enhance the peqilexity of the literary 
jiroblem which underlies the dramatic .. '" '•'"' *' er 

.M. Uostand's play is destined to i .,n 

Knglish version is among the most profound uncertainties 
of the future. The eminent actor-n who has 

aajuired the English rights in the drai t may not 

conclude that it would be likely to achieve popularity 
with English audiences in a translated form. On thisjioint 
the {iresentation of the French play in London can hnrdly 
throw much light. It is the exact reverse of that •- 
ment, humorously described by the Americans, Wu.u •• 
play is first brought out in the provinces, as " trying it on 
a dog." Vymno de Berfjerttc has been tried on the 
higher animal first ; and its acceptance by the very select 
and s]>ecialized London public to whom it has been 
presented would of course afford no e that it 

would be equally acceptable to the gn„; .-.,.. of average 
English playgoers. One thing however may l>e affirmed 
with confidence, and that is that, if the play is tried and 
succeeds in an English verse translation, such, for instance, 
as that reviewed to-day in our columns, its success will be 
due to the romantic (pialities of the story and not at all 
to the attractions of the litenu-y form in which it hapitens 
to be cast. The immortal advice of the late Mr. Ducrow 


[July IG, 1898. 

to " cut the caokle nod come to tlie 'osses " will, we ft^l 
confidtMit. Iv omv more jiistifi«il. It will Ik* by the •• 'osst-s " 
of drainntio notion and situation, and not by the " cackle," 

h" ' id ini'Kxlious, which the tiansliitor miiy 

l>ii !ii* of the !U-tors that the great Hritish 

public will be won. 

This is rather a melancholy reflection for t!iecouutr_v- 
men of Shakespeare to dwell u^jon, hut we are afraid tliat 
there is no denying its truth. It is as certain that the 
poetry of the play will contribute little or nothing to 
the pleasure of an English audience as that it immeasur- 
ably enhances the ap|>eal of M. Kostand's masterpiece 
to his countrymen. We are not of course suggesting 
tliat the literary comjwrison can be made on ()uite 
equal terms. A translation must necessarily suffer from 
the fact that it is a translation ; it is impossible that 
it should succeed, however skilful, in capturing and 
reproducing the complete charm of the original. But 
we do not limit our statement to the case of translations. 
An original |)oetic drama of whatever merit, unless 
])erhaj)8 it were supported by the prestige of some 
illustrious name, would to-<iay liave no lietter chance 
in England. If it succeeded it would succeed on 
the strength of its plot and action and the jwwer 
and |x)pularity of the actors and actresses by whom 
it was performed ; its jwetry would be merely tolerated, 
and an effective prose version, with the j)oetic flowers 
rooted out and the dialogue cut down to the irreducible 
minimum of intelligibility, would, if it could lie put on as 
a rival, drive its versified comi)etitor from the stage. To 
say that the fault is in our dramatists and not in our 
public is but a cheap and facile retort. The age is rich 
in poetry of a quality quite worthy of the admiration of 
a playhouse audience, if it is not of sujjreme merit. It is 
not l)ecause there is only one Shakespeare that the art of 
dramatic writing in poetic form is to be regarded as 
extinct. Shakespeare himself abounds in passages of 
s|>lendid and stirring rhetoric which do not, however, 
approach the higher flights of his poetry, and can them- 
selves, therefore, be much more nearly approadied by 
poets of infinitely smaller gift. Much of M. Jiostand's 
play — like much, indeed, of even the greatest examples of 
French drama — is not i)oetry in the finest sense of the 
word : it is simply rhetoric of a superior r]uality. But 
rhetoric is no such despicable product of the literary facility 
aa we in this country have got into tiie habit of assuming. 
It carries, at an}' rate, a worthier a])p<>al to the mind and 
imagination of an audience than the bald and formless 
prose which is, no doubt, all that the modem stage 
inarionettist requires to explain the working of his 
puppets, and which, even as it is, stands convicted of 
excessive v. v cotnjwrison witli L' Enfant Prodigue 

and other , ns of the wordless play. 

The modern English indifference to, or distaste for, the 
poetic drama is no mere (juestion of lieality vtrniu Con- 
vention. T 'lislik<^l merely lM«cause it destroys the 
illosion of ; v ; for you cannot get an ajjpreciative 
hearing for it, even as the vehicle of a story which is 
frankly romantic, and in which there is no illusion of 

actuality to be destroyed. The British playgoer would 
prefer that even his fairy tales, or tlieir equivalents in 
drama, should be told througli a prosaic rather than a 
j>oetic medium, lie seems, indeed, to become confirmed in 
this prepossession as the years go by, for he is even less 
tolerant of stage jwetry to-da)' than he was twenty years 
ago. The late Mr. W. G. Wilis may not perhaps — as frater- 
nal jjartiality has recently assured us — liave written the 
greatest luetic drama of the century in •' Charles I. " ; 
but that jtlay did un<loubtedly deserve all the in^pularity 
and mucli of the literary recognition whidi it obtained at 
the jieriod of its first production, while it must lie most 
seriously doubted whether it would have obtained either 
if it had been proiluced at the iiresent day. To be siu-e, 
it is complained with a certain amount of truth that the 
actors of to-day are b<>coining less and lesscaiiable of doing 
justice to such beauties of sound,' or even sense, as a 
modem jwetic drama might exhibit — that, in fact, they 
testify their dislike to that form of drama on the rare 
occasions when tliey are called ujion t-o play it 
by so delivering their "lines" as to beguile the 
audience into the belief that they are listening to 
passages of disjointed and somewliat eccentric prose. 
But this, after all, is only another asiHsct of the same 
phenomenon. Actors would improve in elocution (juickly 
enough if audiences cared for ttie sul)ject matter of their 
unmelodious recitations. It is clear, however, that they 
do not wire for them, and in fact tliat the charm of 
language which used at one time to contribute in some 
measure, at any rate, to the comi)lex pleasure aflbrded by 
dmma is ceasing, if it has not wliolly ceased, to form any 
appreciable element in it to the mind of the nation whicii 
has produced in the same jierson the greatest i>oet and the dramatist of tlie world. 


studies of a Biogrrapher. Hv Leslie Stephen. Two 
Vols. Sxoiin., 2(r7 r2^v» pp. Ixjiuloii, ISUS. Duckworth. 12/- 

In these volumes Mr. Leslie Stephen has collected 
for rej)ublication a series of articles originally contributed 
by him from time to time to two of the leading monthly 
reviews and to the CornhiU Muf/aziM. It is not every 
essayist's work wiiich can face this test satisfactorily ; but 
.Mr. Stephen's will be found to stand it much l>etter than It is informed by reading so wide and fruitful, 
aboimds in criticism so sane and judicious, and is 
enlivened by a humour *o agreeably dry, that one or other 
of these ()ualities, ]>erliaps imperfectly appreciated on a 
first perusal, is ])retty sure to t-aptivate us on a n-newed 
acquaintance. Mr. Stephen, too, is a companion for all 
moods, a merit which he owes to the singular widlli of his 
range of interests. In the dozen or so of pai)ers liefore us 
he ap])e;irs three or four times ns a biographer in the 
strict sense of the word, twice or thrice incidentally or 
directly as a critic of jioefry and poets, and at least once 
in that field of pliilosophicul and theological disijuisition 
which he has made j>eculiarly his own. Even in that 
dejiartment of criticism for which he is disi^sed to rate 
his (jualifications too mo<lestly — the analysis of poetic 
genius — he is always worth listening to. His determined 

July IG, 1898.] 


flinoerity, IiIh steady rofusjil to forcw tlie tem|i<*rature 
of his admimtioiiH, ev»'n wla-ie lie ih rnoHt ioiimmouh 
that they may fall nhort of the approved Htandanl 
of warmth, give a value to hit< judgments whicli 
go fur to comjHmsjite f;jr any defeot of syinputliy. 
lie is apt to weigh poetry in the commoii-siMis*' 
l)al(«nce iif .lohnsmi ; Imt that is a process whieh docs not 
come amiss in these days of riiapsody, and the very air of 
the nineteenth century is chargwl with a sufficiency of 
emotional caloric to save him from falling into that prosaic 
frigidity whii'h l)enund)ed the aj)preciative |K)wer of the 
great eighteenth-century censor of" Lycidas." A capital 
example of Mr. Stephen's strong pcrsotial and philosophical 
])repossessi()ns struggling against the '• Zeitgeist," and in 
the end jiractically vanipiished by that overmastering 
spirit, is to be found in his admirable jmper on Matthew 
Arnold, and es])ecially in the admission with which the 
following characteristic extract concludes : — 

I havo netvcr been able --(loul)tlp(Ui it in a dofoct- to 
symiiatliizewith tlio Oliunnauiiiiand AiiiioNwhoiii Arnold ailiiiiroil: 
exi'olli'iit but Hiiroly utri^minatc ihthohh who tastu of tlie Kniit of 
the Troo of Kiiowlodtjc an<\ finding the taato bittor co on makin); i 
wry faces over it all their lives. . . . The universe is o|H'n 
to a great many critiiMsins ; there is plenty of cause for tears ami 
for melancholy : and great poota in all ages have, Iwcauso they 
are great poets, given utterance to the sorrows of their race. 
But 1 don't feel disponed to griunblo at the abundance of 
interesting topics, or at thi' advance of soientitic knowledge, 
because some inconveniences result from both. I .lay all this 
simiily lis explaining why the vulgar including niysolf fail to 
appreciate musical moans over spilt milk wliich repiesent 
rather a particular eddy in an intellectual revolution tlian the 
<leep«r and more pcrimment elements in human nature. Hut I do 
not mean to depreciate Arnold's power : only to suggest reasons 
for the want of a wider recognition. The .'XWiii- (,'1/151/ 
expresses in certain ]>a88age8 sentiment which I must vail , 
morbid, but for all that, even for me it remains one of the most 
oxqui.sitc poems in the language. 

Throughout the whole of this pas.sage down to the last 
.sentence Mr. Stephen is sim[)ly giving philosophical ' 
rea.sons for his want of a])preciation of certain of Arnold's 
])oems. There is therefore something very (piaint in 
the unconsciousness with which, in that hist sentence, he 
admits that same objections, even when carried to 
the length of i>ronouncing a poem '• morbid," do not 
prevent him from i-egarding it as " one of the 
ex(juisite in the language." 

Of the i)urely literary p;\])ers, the most attractive, 
jierhajis, are those on Dr. liirkbeck Hill's ".lohn.sonian 
Mi.scellanies" and on "(liblwn's .\utobiography," though 
for a haj)py mixture of biography and criticism sujier- 
added to an equally felicitous conjunction of author 
and subject the study of Oliver Wendell Holmes niay. 
perlia]>s, claim the highest plat-e in these volumes. 
On the other hand, for a writer whose forte — if .<o 
versatile a talent can be saitl to have one — lies in 
moral philo.^ophy, the article on Pascal with which 
the collection concludes is a little disappointing. Mr. 
Stephen is evidently more interested in the I'fusnit than 
in the Provincloli's. which is i)erhai)s not an unnatund 
])rcference, considering his strong bent towards those 
eternal controversies on " fixed fate, free will, foreknow- 
ledge absolute" which bothered even \[ilton*s Lucifer 
himself; and this has made him jierhaps a little imjvUient 
to get done with that ever-memondde duel of .Jansenist 
and .lesnit, which no man could have described with more 
spirit and humour than he. As it is, he treats it rather , 
more briefly and drily, and dismisses it rather more raj)idly 
than it deserves. He hardly seems to share " >I. de 
Montalte's" grave delight in imimling his wriggling adver- 
saries, or e\en, one would say, to appreciate that spirit of 

Waltonian t 
caHuist of t 
are even »1 

^ which 

.,f I..., 

n's Dinnrnarv of 




them is thus made to describe and juntify tlie tniDMiirtion 


Th»t, >■•. 



anil III 1 ai 11 I «:ip, ]-ri..lly juiillli.-. :,. | w^a JullUtcd 

when I eoiiibinud the two. 

Always snpiKXiing, of course, that there wa« a ]im|ier 

" direction of the intention" at e-  ' -  •■■ ^•-■■- of 

the affair — that in to .«uiy, that wlc ty 

of vendor f ' „< 

and incideii;  ,<. 

'■ of i»urcliM.'»i-r. Mr. re 

■I the order of ]inx-e<l ■• -nc 

borrower in ixwseswon of \> - and money. The 

actual course of events, a.1 devil 1 1  '' - " 'not 

" Baumy ") wa» a.t follows : A Jw-i ^d 

B to borrow money at interest, tl to 

the latter for a certain sum n-j. :id 

interest, jiayable at a future date. an«l tiien v •Ay 

buys them back again cash down for a sum < 
principal alone. Thus supitosing the tai 
interest to lie sixty jx'r cent. |ht annum, B woiii.i re. .-r, e 
£'100, and would owe ,\ iKUl on that d-iv veur. |'f>»«ihlv 
there would lie no act 11 -ly 

more than there is an a 

" bear " .sjile on the .Stoc-k Kxchange, which the ni 
ment very closely resembles, but in eai-h the ....i,;., 
step in the tnmsaction is not a purcha.He, but a sale on 

We have reserve*! to the last oar notice of the pa)M>r 
with which the first v»»lume opens, and which is in some 
resjiects the most interestin'/ !•< »he collection. It* 
subject is that of "National I y,"and it containn 

an able and convincii ' ' ' h 

wius originally comn r- 

vision, and the <• i.<i 

better able than ^ ^ i'» 

successor in the editorship has already t-ontribute«i ably 

to this work of explanation and defenj-e, I '• • 'i-- 

mental con.siderations suggesteil by the .r 

are not therefore unnee<le<l. The chief, the " ." 

function, as Mr. Stephen calls it. of t!)»» •• I> ,f 

National Biography" may In* ' e 

handmaid to hi.story. The va- . d 

which Clio is nowadays expected to \y 

through renders necessary •• n • '• u m nie 

contrivances for makini; it a le work of 

jierfecting these cont'  -h 

an answer to the ^^<. a 

place in the Dictionary r Why siioui <<) 

instead of 3,000 or 3(MMKM> names ? . ■< 

the \-alue of the dictionary for the puq>oses  

historian might be seriously  ' - - ' ' 

rule of exclusion. For the 

biographies of the .•<e<'on<l-ni .• 

hapjM'n to cross the jMith of • 

would otherwi.-»e have to " be n»c<>-  v 

notices or from references in mc ,,.,,- of 

letters, or sought in prefaces to posthumous works, or 
sometimes painfully dag out of collections of manuscripts " 




[July IG, 1808. 

— it 18 th*'^!<» which give the Dictionary its principal value. 
This is • illuiitrated by Mr. Stephen in the 

foUowin" i _ : — 

To (five the first instanoo tl»»t occurs", Macniilav tolls n very 

i;. . ! . > 

p«f;ps •• s<.M>ii ks tiicy have ]>lny(><i thou mii. lint it is 

natural tn inq'iirp who iheso two inon  wore who were 

i: <1 ill a really critical Hiriiin}»-point. A 

f lioimrv will not only answer the qiieation 

but iii>l|> to iii.>ku more distinct the conditioim under which 
Etigli»h writers won ii most inii)ort«nt privilege. 

A secondary merit which .Mr. Stephen claims for the 
Dictionary, apj»arently with some doubt as to whetlier it 
will be admitted, is that it is an " amusing work." Thi.«, 
I'l. ' '" ii>e. true only ujwn certain conditions. 

'I ss should he ]»roticient in " the great 

!i pini;." i>ut no man. he thinks, is a real reading 

«-i I "until he is sensible of the pleasure of turning 

over some miscellaneous collection, and lying like a trout 
in a stream snapping up with the added charm of 
unsus|)ectedness any of the (jueer little morsels of oddity 
o! may drift past him." Mr. Stephen thinks 

t., it find a much better hunting ground for 

this purjiose than the Dictionary. We agree with him, 
and should be content to apjieal for confirmation to the 
quite average volume of that work which has just issued 
from the press. 

Linguistic and Oriental Essays, written tVom the 
year 1840 to 1897. Fifili .s.ii.s. Uy Robert Needham 
Oust, LL.D. Two vols. 8x5^in.. xiv. + vii. ' 1,07.") m). 
Loniioii. Isats. liuzac. 30/- 

Among the very miscellaneous contents of these 
volumes is an essay entitled " Twenty-five Years After 
India.'' in which Dr. Cust records a conversation with the 
late Sir Kol>ert Montgomery, then Lieutenant Govenior of 
the Punjab, concerning "the kind of life which some 
retired old Indians led in Kngland " — we all recognize the 
picture — " lietween meals at the club and their lodgings, 
a call on their tailors, a snooze, and a visit to a friend. 
It .':eeme<l to me. who had seen it while on furlough, that 
to die in India was l)etter." Opinions dift'ered, however. 
M ly was dis]>f)se«l to agree ; he felt he could not 

gr; iiiout his chupnissi. An old military bachelor 

said he would go home and marry — and keej) a cow. 
Another, on his retirement, projKised to imtent a rotary 
boot-blacking machine, and did so. Dr. Cust took a 
hi w of the duties of an old Indian on ])ension. 

" i - to me that, grateful for having got home with 

a com|ietence, when so many have remained behind, be 
ought in hi» own way to give England the benefit of his 
experience, and to do all the good he can Ix-fore his 
race ' " To do them justice, a good many 

old Iii : an excellent examjile in this way, though 

it cannot Iw denied that there are not a few whom. 
in the country, the club .secretaryship and the golf 
links, and in town the sweet shady side of Pall Mall seem 
to satisfy with a somewhat flaccid ideal of life. 

Dr. Cust is not of this class. He is {terhaps a little 
too fond of telling us tlm' 
written twelve hundr<*<l <v.i 
ip the course of a latM)rious 
gence is due to a veteran's 
and there is no doubt at all that 
is, one of the most industrious and many si<led of Anglo- 
Indians. I>eanied .Societii-s anil ( )ricntal (.'ongresses 

•venty-seven and has 
IS, of varied lengtlis, 
life; but large indul- 
recital of his Imttles ; 
Dr. Cost has Iwen, and 

know him well ; their meetings would not be complete 
without his brisk and energy-tic i>resence. If they want a 
delegate to rejiresent them at a foreign conference, wiio is 
BO fit as tiie acconiplisiie<l and encvclopanlic ejt{K»nent of 
all things pjistem 'i Missionary and Bible Societies have 
long claimed him for their own. The l>ench of magistrates 
has discovered that an Indian training is not the worst 
prejoinition for a justice of the pence, and committees of 
all .sorts have profited by a clear head niul business habits 
learnt years ago in the tent of the district Sahib. Dr. 
Cust has been everywhere, known every one, seen every- 
thing, and put it all into jtrint. He holds very decide<l 
views ui>on most subjects, and expresses them with robust 
earnestness. He is ecjually jirejtfired to write about the 
origin of tlw' I'lKcnician aliihabet and the treatment of 
Kafirs in South Africa, to give us regretful (not to say 
sentimental) recollections of his Indian district, and to tell 
the S.P.C.K. why it ought to iiublish the Prayer-book in 
Yiddish. Severely orthixlox in <'ssentials of faith, he is 
liberal and tolerant in practical matters. India makes 
men of the worhi out of even fanatics, which Dr. Cust is 
not. He is nuich incensed, for example, when a writiT 

Some of the Mifsiiinai v liipni t tai^.s, a^inst whicli wo must 
protest, such as " the bliftht of iBlam, whoso pcnius is ilostnic- 
tioii, " Ac. A calm and iinbiiisud study of historv tolls us that 
tho prosperity of a country, the niajniiilconcu of cities, and tho 
dojjreo of wisdom of tlio people do not in any way depend \\\\an 
tho dominant religious convictions of the country for the 
time being. What wore Home and Greece under the prevalence 
of Pagan religious convictions, and what are they now ? 

which, if obvious, is Ixild talk from the lion, secretary of 
the Board of Missions of the Province of Canterbury. 
Agjiin. in Indinii law, "nothing can be theologically right 
which is morally wrong. If Jephthah had carried out hi» 
rash vow at I^hore, I should have hung .lephthah." This 
it is to put things bluntly, and we wish Jejilithah had beeu 
at I^ahore; it would liave done him goo<l. 

Dr. Ctist is e(]iially reasonable in his treatment of the 
opium (|uestion, and in his much-needed plea for the pre- 
servation of ancient Oriental civilisations, which new- 
fangled reformers wish to sweep away : — 

The conclusion I have come to after fifty years of experience, 
wide reading, and careful consideration, is suninied u)) in tho 
few words " Leave the people of Oriental countries alone." 
Maintain a firm, impartial criminal aii<1 civil Court of Justice, 
with no prejudice against or favour for tho black, white, rod, or 
yellow skin : fro<.' locomotion, free right of a.ssombly, free 
religion, free tra<le, free Press (subject to the same limitation as 
in England), opposition to old woukmi's fads and tho gusliy 
suggestions of unpertinont intruders into the domestic habits of 
a nation settled in tho same region many more centuries than 
our own. Leave them alone to tread their own path and develop- 
their own social idiosyncrasies under a realm of impartial and 
absolute Ijaw. 

Whilst we admire his outsjiokenness, Dr. Cust must 
not exjiect us to praise indiscriminately his treatment of 
all the very mixed subjects he iliscusses, or on whic-h he 
jtist throws out hints in his thousand capacious ))ages. 
Youtiifiil Haileyhury skits jostle letters to the lieayrd 
and obituaries from the Journal of the Hoyal Asiatic 
Society, whereof Dr. Cust has long been an ornament and 
A tutelary guardian. He would, we think, have done 
well to select with more fastidiousness, and exjtress with 
closer attention to a concise style. Still, raniiiling and 
sometimes e]>hememl as some of his essays may be, others 
contain a good deal of sound judgment and interesting 
experience. Dr. Cust was with I/Cpsius when he was 
exploring the only half-understood mysteries of hiero- 
glyphics in Kgypt. He met liawlinson just when he was 
starting from India to carry out his famous investigation of 

July Ifi, 1988.] 



the cuneiform inHcription on the rockH of Behiittuu. 

Siiiop tliose tlays lie hn« hchmi nnd -' ud tnivellol 

irulefatii^iiMy, ami these bulky voliim iiii hut the 

ripipya, uUiiost the iiicideiital reereationH, «>ne ti)i;{lit cay, 
of a hfe devoted to intellijjent wtudy anil observation. The 
larjfe collection of facts, theories, and comments would be 
jnncli more useful, iiowever, if there were an index ; and 
the work would <,'!iin coiisidernhly by judicious weeding. 
But mnny a f^ardener shrinks from pruning the trees he 
has hitnself planted, even for their good, and Dr. ('ust's 
•exuberance is so natural and even excusable that it will 
evoke more symi»ithy than censure from other old 
Indians who love to hear their own voices. 

Cyrano de Bergerac, a Fluy in 5 Acts. My Bdmond 
Rostand. Tnuisljitcd I'l-oin the Krench l>y Gladys Thomas 

1111(1 Mary F. Guillemard. 7 - .'>iii., :S)I pj). I.0111I IMts. 

Heinemann. 6/- 

" Cyrnno do Borgerao " requiros no intrcxliiction to our 
roiidtTS, sinco it was in tlio coluiniiii of Literature that 
ivc<|uaiiitaiico with its murits wan 6r8t iiiadu on this iiiilo of the 
Channel. Tho play is declaro<l by many of M. Kostand's most 
comptiteiit countrymen to have taken its |>laco anioiif^ the niastor- 
piocos of Frericli literaturu of the iirosent Ofiitury : and, though it 
is generally more or leas futile to forecast tlie judgments of 
posterity, it is not impossiMo tliat the nai/, vainglorious, )>rave, 
generous Cyrano, witli his universal genius, unpractical 
impetuosity, and artistic iiicorrii|itibility, 

Who was cverythiag, yet was naught, 
may hocomc a permanent aildition to the gallery of liumaii tyjies. 
To transhitc M. Rostand's verse into English vorse, and convey tho 
spirit, entrain, and sentiniciit of a pliiy which turns on a character 
NO full of subtle gradations, so noiir in many respects to tho ludi- 
crous, as Cyrano. was no light task, and wo optMHxl the book before 
us with apprehension. It is therefore an agreeable surprise to find 
tho translation, from the first lino to the last, not only ingeniously 
careful and accurate, but almost as spirited and melodious as 
the original. To begin with the end, the original is not more 
melodious than this : — 

You strip from mc the Isurul ami tliK reM> ! — 
Take all ! Desjiiti' you there is yet one thing, 
I holil n);ainst you all. niiil when to-night 
I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed, 
Sweep with tlotTod castpie the Heftven's threshold blue. 
One thing remains, that — voitl of stain or smutch — 
1 awny despite you .... 

Those who have seen the play will ronieml)er Coquelin's admirable 
rendering of the passage in which Oyrano answers Le Bret's 
suggestion that he should place himself under the protection of 
the great Cardinal : — 

.\y , and then ? 
Seek a proteetor, choose a ]>Btroii out, 
.And like the crawling ivy round a tree 
That licks the biirk to giiin the tiunk's support, 
Olimb higli by <TeepinK ruse instead of force 'f 
No, grammercv 1 What ! I, like all the rest 
Dedicate verse to Imnkers ? -|day ImfVoon 
In cringing hope to see, at last, a smile 
Xot disapproTmg on a patron's liin';^ 
(Iramuieix-y, no ! 

Or navigate, with madrigals for faila. 
Blown gently windward by old ladies' sighs? 
»  » • 

No, grammeix'j ! and no ! and no again I But— sing? 
Dream, laugh, go lightly, solitary, free. 
With eyes that look straight forward— fearless voice I 
To cock your l>eaver just the way you chouse, — 
For " yes " or " no '" show light, or turn a rhyme ! 


In short, 
Disdaining tendrils of the parasite. 
To he content, if neither oak nor elm — 
Not to mount high, iKTchance, but mount alone. 

One would hardly tupiiOM th* Mloving to b«, M il prM* 

tioAlly is, a literal r«nd«ring of both ^ ' ' ^ 

(KAiit'K.tBAf, tba cook-|>' 
Beat your t%* up, light aad iju 

Kroih 'hrui 


Tb» Iwat milk o( ahi. 
Circle with a ciutani \iMtiM 

'V^ mUm waiM 
Of your t.i ' >i 

With ask 

.> I' k ati'l M.lit 
Round their «](». than, drop by drop. 
In it* little dainty br<l 

Your rTrani shot. 

In the o»en place e»c> 11 

Keappeariuf , softly I 

1 „ ; 

Almond tartleU yon bebul 

8i>aco does not permit as t 
but we may give, as a last i 
Thomas' and Miss I' >> 

description t>y Cyrano : — 


All unai: , 

Like a ^^^ 

Within w! 

He who li..« - 

— Instilling ir' 

Divinity in ev  

Not Venus' sell >.mi ii.ui^. 

As she can step into her 

Nor Diao fleet acro<in th** 

Light as my I^dy o'er tl 


trausUuuu, thu l»Uu«iiig 

linliirtr mortal. 

>n naward. 


The Revelation 
B. Money Coutts. n 



St. Love the 

T, IllT 00 I..,!.. I, 

Divine. Bv F. 
.n M...I New tork 
Liane. 8/6 


It says much (or Mr. .M 
perhaps still more for his < iio 

has been able to prevent I '>{ 

St. Love the Divine " from  ly 

and for very brief intervals— int- li tract 

on the marriage question, and h.- . _ ...:iing it, 

with these exceptions, on the level of a remarkable pot^m. No 
doubt it suffers to some extent from its purpose. The lover of 
poetry — with perhaps a preference (or that order of poctiy 
which Mr. Money Coutts 1'. 

will approach it 
liis sort of thing 


with suspicion. He will 1~ 

had better be left to tho latly-i.^ 

and vocal band — to deal with to 

medium of prose. And, per! ■• wen- u to 

open the lx)ok at the tw. _ :(l of it-' 'd 

sections beginning "Hither the strolling wn- 

and if, further, he were a reviewer who uiid' : : 'ig 

engagements- up to, or s:ty a little bit beyond, the limit of hia 
capacity for conscientiously discharging them- he might read no 
more of the "Revelation of St. Love the Divine." For (he 

might say) though ; ' 
in an utfiliation ca-- 
the subject re<juiri - 
scene to the level <'i i 
distinction in the lines 

* •• of trag«dy 

:y session*, 

> raise Um 

:id no siidt 

' yuuug woiikaii must now 

Before thi- 

For habv'i uke. 


loo* thmnf, 
fur lobby's sake. 

he might too hastily conclude that the volume before him was 
a plaiiioytr of a very commonplace kind in the eternal caa* of 



[July 16, 1898. 

Woman rrmu Man. But m » inatt«r of fact tbeae eight 
stMuaa eonstituto, if not the only, yet ctTtitiiity the sol«> aorious 
l»pM into iMuutlity which can bo laid to Mr. Money Coutts' 
ohars*. Kren when ho cornea noareat to the outworn con- 
troTersiee of the day, he nianafies for the most part to give to the 
familiar thesia that indelinable touch of dignity which raisos it 
aboT* tlM level of an Anti-Matrimonial Socit-ty'a leatlet or tlio 
.tUegoriea of the " Uill-t^ip " novol. What else could redeem 
:rom anrh aaaociationa the subject-matter of throe such stnnuka 

aa Uiia :' 

The marriaer unction fpeds the atrrnirth 

Of n»tion»— (n^wn bryond nil Rirtli 
PoHeiitou4 — iinil tlif vrnomoti.*^ length 
Uf armies that enfold the curtb ; 

But crer am) anoo by fiend. 

In hierarchal robes nrmyeti, 
Some ioaocent, some lamb unwraned, 

Across Ibe bloody stone is laid. 

The people lislf avert their eyes. 

Or else are heUl in selfish awe : 
'• The welfare of the most I " he cries. 

And they respond, " It is tlie Law." 

But this, after all, has only the merit of a (our <U foret. It 
is aa though a man should have backed himself to put the 
manifesto of a Free Love S<iciety into poetic form ; and should, 
aa Mr. Hannibal Chollop expresses it, have " realize<l the 
stakes." Mr. Money Coutts can do better work than this when 
he approaches larger issue.s. It is in giving voice to those noble 
if somewhat nebulous aspirations of the modem poet, from 
^ wnwards, towards a state of thiiigB in which Love 

:> shall together rule a world enfranchisiHl from the 

li of creed and <logma that the poet touches his highest 

\M..i\. oi o.\oellence in the matter of expression. .■\'< t'uis : — 

Why iireacb profanity so great. 
Of Revelation standing still. 

And all of .Man determinate 

Save i>i-ience, grinding at her mill? 

Of doom ordained two thousand years, 
That yet with God's connivann- floats 

Suspenaively, till Satan rean< 

His propt-r coniplemi-nt of goats ? 

The Human Soul for ever grows : 

This ervature out of Goal's own hands 

Is iloweri'd with flircc inherent throes 
To burst Iteligion's Bwa4ldling-bandfl ; 

Anil that confusion, I»ve miscalled. 

The narrow cell in which he lies 
Shall he unraftert'd ami unwalli'd 

And mnde commensurate with the skies. 

Or this, in a prophetic denunciation of that Church which has 
•urvived so many denunciatory prophecies : — 
The great procession lags along 

With scarlet co{h'S anil smouldering fires. 
With banners raised and sacri'd song 

That Gregory stole from Grecian lyres. 

Vicars of Ooil who judge the soul 

Ktrmally to l>ask <ir burn. 
Who read creation like a scroll. 

Nor even of God hare much to learn. 

The fulness of your day has been ! 

The aavour of the salt is lost ! 
For lewder men have far foreseen 

A greater feast of I'entecost. 

Yet no ri 'l«'vice 

Shall r altars t« their shame : 

The fr»<i lit sliall suffice, 

file II shall quench \hi- flame. 

The Tonnysonian echo is ^ludihle enough iti the last two lines, 
and tnd«e<1 it is so di«tiiift in ninny of the 
poem aa to U-; it trinl of the experiment of 

transposing thi no of the ijuntrain with h view 

to its conTaraion into the "In Momoriam " rhyme-scheme. liiit 
this doaa not after all imply much imitative tendency. Tenny- 
son has fixed the form of exprosaion for all nineteenth century 
poetry of thought on all the graater things of human life and 

destiny : ami adhesion to it, conscious or unconscious, is 
probulily II necessity for imy latiT jwet — is in any case In-tter 
tliun conscious and willed deimrture from it, which would almost 
certainly mean a change for the worse. With or without that 
illustrious mo<leI iH'foro liiiii it is not every writer who is 
miist«-r, lis was (|uito truly said of Mr. Money Coutts some 
years ago. of '' the rnro and ditlicult iirt of clothing thought in 
the true poetic lungimge." There is much, as wo have pointed 
out in the subject and purport of the present volvniio, which has 
made exceptional tienmiid for the display of this mastery : and, 
as wo have also ciulonvourod to show, it has rarely failed to 
meet with an adecjuatc response. The poem should add to a 
reputation which as yet is by no means equal to its author's 

To auy ono who considers carefully it must Ih.- clear 
that it is for the most part at techni(|ue and execu- 
tion that the current fashion of verse stops short — that it very 
seldom goes licyond facility and occasional prettinoss. Here, for 
example, some ten volumes of recent verse lie upon our table, 
and, if it may fairly l)o said that not more-than two or throe of 
them are actually vajiid, one can only select another couple as 
in any way applying ideas to life — as manifesting, in short, any 
serious .sense of tlio jioet's function. It is something, however, 
that a city should lie .saved for two's sake, and tin percentage 
is (historically') above the average I 

Of the little collection liefore tis much the most promising 
volume, in our opinion, is The Shadow op Lovr, by Miss 
Margaret Armour (Duckworth, 5s.). Hero we have a poet, 
not as yet strong or strenuous, not making appeal to the highest 
emotions, but still a jioi:!, with a delicate, but very sure, gift and 
an earnest, if somewhat indelinite, attitude to the problems of 
life and death. Miss .\nuour's little liook reflects a genuine 
love for humanity, sympathy, seriousness of purpose, and, in the 
background, a vague faith which is always trying to ally its love 
for mankind with some sense of the eternity of the atl'ections : — 
Hill nie not mount the golden stair 

Till I have tiod the rooms below ; 
Call not to iimnsions of the nir 

Until the earthly house I know. 

Ah ! let me greet the spirits white 

Thnt no with mortal garments on. 
Ere I luirtuke of heart's delight 

With those to heavenly places gone. 
A really fine poem is that citlled " Is Thy Hand Shortened, 
Lord 'I " in which the history of the Chosen People is (Missed in 
rapid review, its helplessness considered, and a personal reflec- 
tion wTUng from the sentiment : 

I will not strive to Thee, nor call, but trust 
Thnt, saving not, thou kncwest Death was sweet. 
And good his hostelry for tired feel ; 
And, after their long vexiugs for the just 
And for the wicked, good the ijuiet dust. 
I will not strive to Thee, nor call, but trust. 
We judge Miss Armour to Is? a iioet who has yet to find her 
philosophy — her attitude to life is always indelinite and often 
perplexing; but .she has ci>rtainly genuine inspiration and a most 
hopeful sense of the privileges of the poet's calling. 

Mr. Charles Camp Tarelli. author of PKKSKPHOSE(Macmilliin, 
2b. 6d. n.), is a more impersonal po<<t. His talent is rather for 
desiription than analysis, but. within the limits of pictorial 
verse, he displays an ai-tual and active ability. Some of his sea- 
•ca{N98 are done with a very sure tou<-h and a happy sense of 
colour :- 

Hcniitiful island hidden in night ' 

In the glow of the nioniing sun, in the lirenth of the morning air 

I shall see thy sprendiiiR shores with thuir sloping green, 

The wooded steeps, the sprinklml houses white. 

The p»rj>''' rocks in the bay, the changing hues of the sea, 

■|'ho gulls with their swe«rping flight and their plaintive cry. 

Splendour of floating cloud and gleaming sails ; 

I shall tread thy winding lanes. 

Where mosses and twisted ivy and hanging weeds 

Cover the high banks crowned with trees, 

And splashes of sunlight dapple the s|ii-eadiiig shade. 

.July Hi, 1898.] 

LiTKHATi in:. 


Pomiibly thw individual touehiiH iutrv uru n littlv ooiivuiitioiial, 
but the whole |iii:tiii'(' liiin h diBliiict rliitrm. Tlixru is imt iiiiit'li 
" IxKly " iilMnit Mr. 'rurvlli'd |«Mitry, Imt it in ulwaya nkilftil, 
di^nitiixl, mid pictui'us<|U(*. It linii loiiiid and colour — two oxcol- 
loiit quiilitii<fl. 

Mr. Miuiiniiliaii (lliuse in niroady known tostudi<nt« of viirw, 
and his liitoHt >'olli«-ti<>ii, Love Honiim and KLEriiKH, v<inu-a to u* 
in Mr. KIkiu MiitluiwH' dainty " Shilling (Jarland." His niu«i- 
is mainly iniitutivK : if it wori' p<ifiailili< to I'oni'oivi- tin- roniliina- 
tion out' woiihl di'xrriJM' it us .lacolHiuii touthnd l>y ()ri<iiiUili«ni : 

lliil, nlan ! I ilo rpnienibvr : 

lliTH thou nrt I 
(iivin thot rirh Hi-pti-iiilKT 

Xi'ViT from hiT bi-i'mt to (jiiit. 
Bittir. liiltrr is thy lot, 
I'o lie lii-rn that loves thri- imt. 
Miiir iii> longer, bri-nkiiiK lu-nit ' 

Mr. Ghosu'it mt'Iodiug an* apt to Imt criidi-, and his hkii(;uago it 
ruthttr incohurtuit. The main impruasion which his IwHik luavcs 
is oiHi of considttralilu and wull-inuant otfort not vury fortuiuttuly 
applii'<l. Ht) lacks simplicity and a Sunsu of projMirtioii. 

Thk Litti.kChui.stian Yeah (Unicom PruKS, '2a. 6d. ii.), which 
lx<ars no compiler's namo upon it.s titlc-pago, is a worthy and, in 
soini) riispocts, impressive attempt to condense the sentiment of each 
festival of the Clunih into the space of from four to eij;ht lines. 
The method of Kelilt^ is followed in that the spiritual emotion is 
always drawn from natural sights ami sounds, and though occa- 
sionally, as in the Ka.iter passages, the [lovt scarcely rises to the 
ilignity of his suhjoct, ho is often very felicitous. The poem for 
8t. Michael and All AngoU is a fair rupresonttttion of his 
method. Altogether this is a littlu iKHik which should give 
pleasure to many. The idea is commendahle and its execution 
aliovB the average of devotional verse. 

Mr. J{. K. Unughan, author of Vekwks (Constahlu, Ss.), lacks 
something of a sense of humour. Thus he sings the death of a 
huml>le-l>eo : — 

Dcnr bi(; bcuutifiil brown Bi-e, 

What hurt you ? Let inc look «nd m*. 

Thighs nnd breiist, ami hosd and liark — 

No ! thereVs not the slightest crack 

In these {fivaTcs of bumiiihM bras.s. 

In this velvety cuirass. 

Or all this plated gos.samer 

Of wings that wont to whirr and whirr. 

You burly hoplito, what went wrong 

III a pniinply so strong ? 

Yotn' golden collar is in place, 

Tliosc great eyes vi.sor yet your fare. 

Your broa i sash is not push'd awry. 

Bumble I How did you eome to die? 

And so on, in the manner of Mrs. Leo Hunter. There are 
spring songs and an epi<? tale in the Tennysonian manner. 
Sometimes Mr. liaughan catches a hapjiy echo, but, even when 
he i.s imitative, his muse is thin and inefl'ecttial. 

Mr. Sam Wood shows in Raxkom RiiVMKs(Hnriisloy : Massio) 
that he possos-ses a certjiin slim talent for expression and a 
generally true ear for melody. There is nothing individual alioiit 
his work, but his verst»8 are pleasing and mechanically coiTect. 

Of Mr. David Graham, however, it is dithcult t<i say much 
that shall eiicounige. His blank-verst- drama Rizzio (Constable, 
53. n.) is particularly feeble and includes ]>as8ages from which 
both and metre have alike disappearwl. 

Mr. Charles Uosher's Poems (Haas. 5s. n. ) are adonie<l by some 
truly terrible pictures — a 8t)rt of artless imitation of the Int*- 
Aubrey li<ianlsley. The verses unfortunately do not rise alK>ve 
the level of the illustrations. Even -so do the butter-women to 
market! But Touchstone himself was a Ivtter melo<list than this. 

There is a quaint, early Victorian flavour aliout Mr. David 
B. Mnngo's Tkntatives (Gardner), an echo of " the teii<ler 
effusions our aunts useil to sing." And, indewi. in the oikv 
popular pages of Tlnmias Haynes Bayly you may find many 
worse lines. Some pleasant, unart'ecte<l little lyrics find placi- in 
his small collectiim, and the work, if unambitious, is fivsh ami 
simple enough. 

M->ia Ut ba tito aim of Mr Juhn 

■u. A*. II, I, bat le ilf 

-, :iiinoiipUu> is %"•■ •  I 

Wo mtv afraid this must Iw confvMMl piMir stuff. 

Finally, it 
toadaiiitv lit' 

lliHiik. I youiigpr |kiitU ttuultl liw c^mlwiil with  liUU 

of their ' 

loll, contains much 

't lie vxfiactMl of^ a 

I acei- 






\Vithout any |ireti>iic« to lit«nir) -ly... .... ,.,,•.■■,, .um> 

coinpileil a handbook, Oim Khikxd Tim Hoiuti (Daan, 6*.), 
which, in spito of severe i  
useful information. Too mud; 
volume which dia|io«os of ' 
dents of the horse, thoir « 
eighty [>ag"8. The 
all that Mr. Burtoi 
the avoruge of his class, id . 
terms it, training the horse , 

than disease, and aomotimus rather ambiguously. What, for 
instance, is to be uuderstood by the folio- •■  - "t«ooa, occur- 
ring in » couple of pages ilevotml to tminin .' 

Avoid ttu- use u( derivative*— the spur sad aUck , at any isl*, the 

What is a derivative '/ nnd with what " ilerivative* " ia a piao* 
of counsel under the same heail to be carried into elfect ? 

Any attempts at viciooaneis most be pat down with a Utoug hand— 
nipped in tbo Isid at the outset. 

We are^Miinted tlmt the author of " Our Krieoil th* 
Horse " has no woni i .. barliaroua 

practice, all too prevuh > . of " dock- 

ing ■' horses. Violently to strike oU aeveral of the vertebrn- 
seems an unpromising prelude to a durable frieivUhip. We 
shoidd liavo like<l, also, had Mr. IWton uxproaae>l disapproval 
of the encouragement once shown by showyani judges to white 
legs and feet in Clydesilnle horses. Among the Uiree typical 
Clydesdal(« chosen for illustrations in t'    ^^.^ 

than nine white legs. .-Vmerioan bii k 

have shown of luUi years a wise distajtlt- ' e, 

and breinlers have taken the hint. We \l 

a<lage, arising from the belief, right or wi ;s 

are more liable to disease thnn dark on<>> la 

to heavy horses as to huntvi> 

V — - ' -. .> . ,,,,,, ,j,,^ ^ 

Inni an' V' 

1 ...> ....... ;.*;..-.. him to a fri. *... . 

One white toot — keep him to bis end. 

Mr. Itarton's volume is a pe ' ' ';<> 

haixls of a groom or farm s««rviii .. 

must Ih? the work of a 1' 

A good hunter should ' '.£ day* thrirc fort- 

nightly, and, say, a couple o( ordinary nms earta week dnriag the stason. 

Six big days and four onlinary runs in each fortnight — twenty 
days in CMch month -ho niiiat iiidec«l lie a gooil hunter '. 

In proportion iitiona of sport in this ctxmtxy 

have prov»ile<l to <' _ use of pointers .ui.l ^.ttera io 

the field, the services of retrievars haverisvii in " : yvt 

how seldom — how very seldom— may one enjoy ■' "ne 

of these dogs, its natural faculties brought out r 

considerate training, allowed leisure to work out tnv .issisutiice 
it loves to render to man ; how often- how very often — ia one 
vexed to see a goo<l animal. ^y educated on a viciooa 

system, striving it« utmost ;lie wiahea of an impatient 

master and ham|>ore<l with the tiotling that failure will Miaiir* 
harsh chiding, jterhaps cruel chastiaemant. Saya Sir Hmary 



[July IC, 1898. 

Smith in hi« littl* Tolumo on Kl nil^.^ m-^ am> nvi" 111 l.iii.AR 

TueM {Rl»ckwoo«l, 5«.)— 

I hare ■mo mm flo; doR* a* you brmt car])«t* - cruel >n<l lazy 
roSaiM. who K*** I'l Ui<> timo i;a by iluring wbirb, with no rormrtion, 
tkey miieht b*<r> v into uiy thing. Not evm in the 

«••• uf an oM and brutal floKRing iuatiUable. If 

Um aaimal haa goc to n reruin age, yoa may kill him, but you won't 

Srarybody who knows gamekeopen and thuir wnj-s nnist 
oftMi hare heiirii h preference exprMaed for u t>ol(l dug timt is 
•appoaed U> ret|uire a lot of punishment, or, ut least, that will 
taike it without becoming utterly broken in spirit. Sir Meiiry, 
who car«a nothing for untmined or idio dogs, honuvor botiutiful, 
daaeribea his manner of training retrievers of " soft " repute — 
eaaily cowed — which luivo turned out jierfect servants in the 
ond. He relatea how he trie<l to explain his metho<l to a certain 
isoottish keeper, an excellent man in many resi)eota and kindly 
withal, but imbuo<l with the hateful traditions of the whip. He 
listened respectfully enough to all Sir Henry told him of the 
history of « i 'y clever bitch, originally very nervous, 

which rou;:!i ... would certainly have renderwl useless, 

and then ' ' m u pithy sentence the whole creed of the 
arersge ri._;-iir. iker, observing : — " Weel, me an' you differs on 
that pint. A would reyther at ony time tak it oot, as pit it in," 
meaning that he would rather flog a fault out of a headstrong 
young one than have the trouble of humouring and encouraging 
a nervous one. 

Woulil tliat every sjMrtsman in the kingdom would read 
this valuable little volume, then make his keeper (was an 
examination in it, and discharge him if ho disregarded its prin- 
ciples ! We take any amount of trouble in rearin;^ puppies from 
the choicest strains, and are willing to pay |>ro<ligious prices for 
well-bre<l dops (Mr. Davies, in .Tulj-, 181H5. sold thirteen retrievers 
at Aldridgo"8 at an average of £'iO apiece), but few of us under- 
stand how to bring out their wonderful gifts. Lots of people iire 
ready to gush or sigh over wonderful dog and cat stories of the 
Spreiator stamp ; they are profoundly moved by " eye-openers'' 
aboi * ' :'.d intelligence or fidelity, yet accord sciint attention 
to I \, yet most Ijeautiful, part of a dog's beliaviour, 

which 1. • -e in that part of his nature lately explained 

by Dr. I. iison in his suggestive work, " Wild Traits in 

Tame Anintuls,' already reviewed in our columns : — 

lIo>t of our domotie animnlri, nn<l all which art under our ordvra 
and give as willing olwdienre, are gn-garious in th<<ir habits when in the 
wild rtat«. . . . When we consiiler that our own rooception« of 
deity lead na to tho Kenpral i<lea of an enornioualy powerful nud omni- 
•eient M'Di, who Iovch, haieii, desiri-s, rewards, and punishes in human- 
like fasliion, it iutolvea no strain of inmt(ination to conceive that, from 
the dog's point of view, bis maater is an elongated and abnormally 
cunning doit. . . He is ready in understanding and obeying orders, 

owing to the fact that, when acting in concert with wild companions, it 
was imperative that the young and ine\pcrien<-cd hhould comprehend 
and fall ia with the plans of the more intolli^-ent veteran*. 
A dog, in short, reganls man as his companion, accomplice, 
piirtner — predominant partner— in enterprise against other 
animals. I'nlike the C4it, which is naturally a solitary and silent 
hunter, tho dog is a sneial creature, ami his ruling <le8ire is to 
interpret and execute the will of his master. Perfect sympathy 
and umlerstaniliug come only through const4int comiHinionshipi 
and that is what the gentleman's retriever seldom enjoys. The 
wonderful quickiM!Ss to interpret nni]roa<lineRS to carry out their 
work, which is oft«n shown by tho ]>oaclier'B mongrel and the 
shepherd's ctdlie, is the result of l)eing always with their 
rn«at«r«. It ia fiot hrratur they sr» mongrels or uirelessly bred 
much it:' . but in spite of that dis- 

'1 dogs, , the same opjiortunity of 

l.-.iMi uj ti;. 1 words, of tone, of gesture, of facial ex- 

r. • : , 'ily far excel their plelwian cororadi-s in 

1' nt. liut they ilo not get the same opportunity. 

Tilt. „■ ,.; ^n who aspires to possessing a first-rate retriever 

may walk into Aldridgu's and pay H'M or £40 for a splendid 
animal irith a faultleas |M<digrec. Does ho take his purchase 
home and make it his daily companion, treating the dog as an 
intimate, but nerer forsaking that degree of reserve which is 

et.r.<irual i>. command rospoct 't Oli, dear no ! After a brief 
interview in the mews, when sui>erHuous caresses are lavisho<l on 
the new favourite who, as yet, has done nothing to deserve them, 
the animal is sent down to the care of a keeper in the cmintry 
till tho social engagements of tho master i>erinit of a renewal of 
intercourse After a lapse of several weeks tho ac<|uaintance is 
renewed. More propitiatory caresses, and then, tho dog having 
been warranted well broken, his master takes him out shooting. 
Needless to dwell on the familiar sjiectacle. Tho retriever, 
perhaps excited by a greater abundance of gome than he ever 
saw Iwfore and unable to understand the commands of an un- 
familiar voice or tho expression of a strange countenance, dis- 
regards both and, relying on his own judgment, is pronounced 
headstrong. Correction is applied, moderate at first, then, as 
disoboilience is repeated, more severe ; the dog gets perplexed 
and discouraged ; the sportsman, impatient for a good bug, loses 
his temper, and punishment is administered in a fasliion which 
no cabman would bo permitted to apply to his hoise in the 

This is no fancy sketch ; it is the inevitable result of co- 
operation attempted between two creatures unfamiliar with each 
other, and misunderstanding brings about lamentable failure 
and suffering. All this Sir Henry Smith explains, and shows 
how to avjid. Of tho doligiits arising fronx a thorough under- 
standing, so easy to establish, he has many a jircttj story to 
tell, some of them, as is natural, bearing on putting together a 
good bag of game. Uut, iuahuiuch as a good deal of the unfair 
handling of dogs arises out of undue eagerness to get " the 
stuff," let an example be quoted which has nothing to do with 
killing : — 

Walking one Sunday with a friend on the road between Lockerbie 
and MufTut, wo bad Doubtful for a companion. *' Now,** I said, ** if 
I had a gun with me this dog would never leave my side ; but she knows 
it's f>uoilar quite ns well as I do, and she will liuve some excellent sport 
on her own account, a.s you shall see. There are between here and that 
wire fence in front of us live coveys of partridijes in various siugca of 
deeompo.'^ition — that is, I've been among them idl, and the family circle 
is in consequence considerably diniiuisheil in each case. . . . Watch 
Doubtful's proceedings. She will never ome show herbclf in front of 
us, in disc 1 should stop her ; but she will get quietly away when she 
thinks nho is not Men, tiud, and put up every bird. . . All she 

wants to-day is the excitement of tiuding and Hushing them." Presently, 
eastrng my eyes over my shonliler— " There she is," 1 Buiil, " at the 
llrst covey." L'p got one bird, then the remainder of the family, some 
three or four, at once, Doubtful gazing at them uitently. " Come back, 
you excei'iliagly wicked little ilog," I called to her, ami back she came 
at a canter, looking very contrite, and, putting her nose in my band by 
way of ai>ology, trotted along quietly behind ns. Not three minutes 
after shi^ was ut tin; second covey, and I Urmly believe not one bird of 
tho five coveys esi'opcil her that day. 

Now this may seem an excess of licence, yet Doubtful was 
pronounced by gooti judges to be tho best retriever at real work 
they had ever seen. 

I'ox rlnmaiitU — there ore few men fond of 8ho<iting, still 
fewer ganiekee|)or8, wlio would forgo a few brace of partridges or 
pheasants in the total for the pleasure of seeing a dog working 
perfectly under fair allowance of time. Yet is there more re- 
(|uired t<j make a sportsman than mere marksmanship, and there 
are a few loft still who derive the keenest enjoyment from the 
ancient partnership of man and dog. These will bo grateful to 
Sir Henry Smith for his admirable manual. Nothing is more 
common than to hear people complaining of the bloated bags 
which have lieeoine tho mode of latti years ; men weary of inces- 
sant killing. Here is a sportsman and author who shows how 
much more can be got out of shooting than the mere act of 
slaying. ' 


The religious temiter peculiar to the English mind has never 
nsserte<l its»df quite as much as one would expect iu the field of 
poetry. Knglish poets have generally, except in lU-storation 
times, lieen serious and s])iritual, but they have held themselves 
more indejiendent of the dominance of religion, more aloof from 

July IG, 181)8.] 




saonxl traflition, thiiii j)aiMt«r« niul imiiiioiiin*. Fi.' 
timoH, tlir(m;<li l,ini({lnn<l aii<l ('Imuccr to tin- Kli. 
rijjlit iif fruu Mpciu'li for tlio pui.t wum aiiN«rti'<l, am 
iiitoly rolinioiis iiispinitioii liaH iniiiiwirutivtily •lorn- littl.- to c.nri. h 
our litonitiiro. At two ..po.hH only, in fiict, hii» tlio voic« of 
piiitjr foiMiil a Htniiii of Honn litu' enough to win ovnr tlio«« who 
wiiiitod Hoiiurtliing iiioro in |>ootry than iiioro rolijfioiiii duvotion 
viz., ilmiiif,' tho mlijjioiiH iiphoaviil of tlio Bovontwnth century, 
am) (hninB tlio ronition ntjninst the sotiili»ri«m of tho tiKhtCfnth, 
Thern Ims lioon littli< revival of tho I'uritan song which chnmc- 
torizod the first of these two periods little, nt uny rate, that lia» 
caiifjht the oar of a litoniry pul.lic, altlioii(,'li among the Kvan- 
golical hodieH there has been iiiiich hyiiiii-writilig of coiiKider- 
al)lo merit iliiriiig the past century. Since Cowpor, scrioiw and 
retloctivo jioetry " (Jospol literature," to U80 Carlylo's pliraso-- 
ha» hoeii continuously popular, hut hctwecn CowiK-r and Keble 
there was no delinitely religious poetry that has livo<l. Hebor 
and Afilnian are hut little read nowadays. Keble puts us in 
jiioseiice of a new poetic spirit -a spirit which does not reappear 
exactly in any other writer, but which is compact of two U-n- 
doncios characteristic of tho spiritual development of the present 
century -Wonlsworth's love of nature, and tho cl<>ist»Tcd Chris- 
tian devotion which finds expression in such poets as Newman 
and Christina Hossctti. The poet's love of cloud, field, anil 

, woodland touched a chord which had become newly iionsitive ; 

' and the tenderness and-despit<> certain oliacurities of language 
- the simplicity of his religious feeling, its entire freedom from 
criKleiiosB of expression and from extravagant emotion, its close 
relation with tho ties of home, gave it an influence such as no 
other book of the kind had ever had before. Thackeray took a 
true measure of it in one of those touches sympathetic senti- 
mental if you will in which ho rang as true as Dickens rang 

" Tile (^hristiuii Vcur '" was ii book whicli np|K-arc<l alMiut th»t llroo. 
The son nml the niotlier whispeiwl it to I'ach other with nwe. Kaint, 
very faint nnd seMoni in after life renilennii lieanl that solenn Churrh- 
imisif ; hut he uhvnys hivod the niiienibrniice of it. nnd of thi- tiine« when 
it struek on hia heart ami he walkrd over the rtehls full of hope and void 
of iK>ubt, as the Church bells rang on Sunitny morning. 

Has "The Christian Year," which found its way at oiK-e 
into homos like that of Pendennis seventy years ago, lived on 
with vitality undiminished to our own day ? Tlie <|Ucstion is 
8Uggoste<1, and ia jH'rhaps to some extent answero<l, by the recent 
publication of two distinct editions — one a little volume, with 
introduction, notes of admirable brevity and sense, and a chrono- 
logical list of poems, by T)r. Ijock, the Warden of Keble, in tho 
tii8tt»fully-prepare<l series of Messrs. Methiien's "Library of 
Devotion" (Ss.) ; tho other a facsimile of the first e<lition, in 
the delightfully chanto and elegant ftiniinl then in vogue for 
liooks of poetry, with a preface by the liiahop of Rochester 
(Stock, 5s. n.). The latter shows us the varying readings in later 
editions, of which two are interesting. One is tho »ul>- 
stltution of '"him" for "her" in the stanza in the evening 
hymn about " some jioor wandering child of thine." The 
lino was originally "Lot her no more lie down in sin." The 
edit<ira, by the way, have omitted to notice the change in tht» 
first line of the stanza, which used to run "If some poor wander- 
ing KDul of thine." Tho other is in the poem on the Kpipliany, 
where the last line— originally " Who will not watch and pray 
with Thee ! " — now seems to mark a development in the writer's 
literary judgment no less than in his Anglican exclusiveness— 
" Who will not wake and fast with Thee ! " 

Keble we are speaking, of course, of "The Christian Year" 
only — is read undoubtedly, but by a far narrower class of readers 
than in the days either of rcndcnnis' youth or manhixnl. His 
p<M'tical gift is hardly striking enough to appeal universally to 
later generations, though it can liardly ever fail to socuri' a seh-ot 
audience ; and he is much too far removed from mo<lern ideas, 
even from modern religious thought, to retain the influence he 
once had. We have here a criticism to make on Dr. Lock's most 
scholarly and symjiathetic intro<luction. He singles out as the 
most striking feature of the book " its wiilth of sympathy, its 

" It may tw douhto<| 

wide and varieil a tot 
and praise." Vet n>> 
Kbhiii lived, iU ■(K'ial 
to Imi struck by hi* e 
human interest of th- 
purview is - 
paraniuigii. 1 

t<> whicli 
difl'eroiit. :— 

no le 

of llM 




»i drMuw of mtih. 






■••iig any 

I. The 

•■ niity 

'  •t.T 



•nd tincU 

t Is not 

y, o»lla 

— - -.!*»», 

Their lawtfiai rri« ara lonni to perfect Vort, 

.'Notiiing colli ' ■" ;; " " " 

ment hero e 

.Hay the shock with wlneh 

reference of this kind. Of 

a complex and vast »«)ciety bo had the (malUiit 

exi>erionoo, and this very fact prevent«l him '-^ •■ i 

wide practical aynumthy with the sutfering ami 

secret of his <|uiilitios was tlint moral a- ' 

which, as is sometimes forgotten, and as t 

rominds us, was the " dominai ' 

and which Keble (m mses-ied in a ' 

the life of a toai-her. .\way fnmi tl:. 

Hurslev or Fiiirforil. in the bii«v eif> 

of V 


this the note struck iii 

"the most [x'lfect spec . 

Hers arc in this laud atunntnc ltd- 

Of h 
With »l 

Of I 
Wio rai 
Beia.. . ,,.,„ 

But in this very aloofness and self-ooncentmti.ii Vm< K..i i..-. 
strength, as did fJeorgo Herliorfs. Tho ooi 
nestling among the trees by the church, with it« 
lying among the meadows, its daily round of <| 
ing tho obscr\-ances of tho Church's year, has i 

part in the refinement of society. A poet wb' \it 

atmosphere with tl. ^   ,^ 

live. The chief \< , 

st«te«l by himself, t<> ' ,. 

Prayer- l-ook. Few of r ■., 

by t! 

of th . 

through every stanxa of " The Christian Year." .\ 
sonal note, always gentle and devout, nvy- i •- 
always appeal to those " with whom the : 
everlasting chime," to whatever sect or religi us jr,.;. •5i..n ti-.ey 
may belong. 

Till- mysticism i nature as K 

showed itself in ti of his j>.>cti . 

love of nature. Mr. Palgrave in his "Lai '■ I' . • 

did. as we think, scant justice t.i »lii» f.^», r. r 

Year." The picturesque, roi 

to which other poets of the inu... m.,- .^ 'ini.-i. i 
Cauiplndl, were turning their attention, did not attract 
of " The Christian" 



[July IG, I8y8. 

K>w<U uo ibow of nMHintaia hoarjr 

Wimlinc 'h-'f- cr dnrpminR rImi, 
Whri* II V 

Tr«rh< - iiili : 

Oirr trur Im-*i U but • artli ui>l aky 
Aim) Komi* flAw**r« to ItliMini ftnd die, — 
Hon vit-w» 

Lon mfuM'. 

His natural piety fi>st«.T«i by the stutly "f Wonlsworth anil 
of Butlcr'i Analogy, and wholly untingtHi by the scientific spirit 
— he thought stone* and shells plactnl in titu by the Creator— UhI 
him to see all the rich restful landscape around him with an eyo 
Inenly observant of its bekutios, but always through a spiritual 
medium. The alighted willow bower t<<aches contentment. 

Nf w bom rill 
Jast trickliDK from its moasy bed 

Streaking the heath cUd hill 
With * bright i-mrrsld thread 

meats another mountain stream nursed far away by " some sistt-r 
nymph beside h?r own " and they flow^ together to the sea, like 
the prayer which springs in silent solitude and meeta oth^r 
prayers "together swelling high their chant of many parta." 
The nightingales sprak of " trust entire and ceaseless praise," 
the robin of resignation. The poet who could write the beautiful 

De«p is the silence as of Summer noon 
When » soft shower 
Will trickle soon 
A rracioos rain, frenheninff the weary bower 
O sweetly then far off is he«r<i 
The clear note of some lonely bird 

finds in the picture a pnmllel to Rogation Sunday — the pause 
before Ascension Day when the voice of the church goes up in 
prayer. Sometimes the analogy is fanciful, as when the poet soos 
love, as the secret of nature, in the clouds mantling round the 
setting sun. A more beautiful fancy drawn from the aspect of 
the evening sky connects it with the evening of the life of 
saintly men. 

These in Life'« dixtant even 

Shall shine nerenely brit;lit. 
As in the aiitaniiml henven 

Mild rainl>ow tint.n at night, 
When the last showiT is st<>aling down. 

And ere we sink to rest. 
The sunbeams weave a parting crown 
For some sweet woo<lland nest. 

No wonder that Newman first learnt from " The Christian Year " 
"the aacraiiiental chanictor of natural phenomena." In 1827, 
Keble waa primarily a religious pn«t rather than a {M)otical 
eocleaiastic — the Tractanan movement did not b<-gin till 
fire yean later — and it waa hit chief merit among writers of 
devotional verse before or sine?, that his imagination was so 
freshly and vividly iTiBpiro<1 by external nature— a characteristic 
which will, in our judgment, always preserve for " The Christian 
Yew " a place among the lesser English claasics. 


It ia A little aingnlar that Mr. Charlton M. Lewis, B.A.> 
the author of Tn« Fokkiox Soubcbs or Modek.v ExfitinH 
VnuiiriranoN (Halle, Karraa), should have chosen the folloivlnf- 
linee aa an example of " purely syllabic " versification : 

Beatisaiinii ' ' : oims, 

QaaaiSaii lican>ll grstiam 

IbfaUotqae tnani no < i>r<<i::i:uH r<irii|i«ni>jr, I'l iiiinijinius. 

Mr. Lewi* aays that " no further regidarity " bi>yond tlie 
syllabic can be perceived ; but one surely finds a very marked 
stt<-mpt at rhj-me, and a faint echo of dactylic rhythm in the 
third line. lndc«<l, the line*, which are aanignod to the ninth 
century, are more richly rhjrmcd than many lati-r seqtiencos 
which are content with the mere repetition of one sound. This 

is the cuse in the following '• anthem in A " the sequence for 
Christmas Day in the " Missale de Arbuthnot " : — 
Nato canunt omnia : Domino pie agmins 
Syllabatim pneumats, perstringeDilo orgniiica 
Hxc <lics sacrata, in qua nova mait gnudin miindo plene dedita. 
Mr. Lewis proves easily enough liis niiiin tlnsis -tlmt modern 
English vursilicntion derives, primnrily from tlie Latin hymns of 
the Church, and more immedintely from tlie early French poetry. 
But we notii-e that in his account of verse-systems in general 
and of old English verse in particular he forgeta to mention the 
alliterative principle which was of such paramount importance 
in English poetry of the most primitive type. In fact, the book, 
a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Yale Uni- 
versity, though sound as far as it goes, rather suggests un 
lirreafaire — a systematic history of the form of poetry, a dis- 
cussion not only of tlie origin of quantitative, syllabic, accented, 
rhymed, and alliterative forms, but of the a-sthetics of the sub- 
ject. It would Ih) interesting, for example, to trace rhyme to 
its first sources, to note the hints of it in classical versi- (as in 
Horace's font Bawhisia), to note its' development tlirougli 
all the eIaborat<! and varied forms of medieval Latin Verse, from 
the first rude assonances to the grand orpin music uf 
Tul>a mirum spargins sonuni 
Per sepalt'hra regionum, 
Ooget omnes ante thronum. 
But it would be perhaps of even greater interest to analyze the 
pleasure that rhyme gives us, to compare the subtle melody of 
rhymed poetry with the more expressed harmonies of music 
itself, and to decide how far tlie charm of such [MH'try ia uf a 
purely musical character. 

Nbohellknic Lanuuaor and LiTBiiATi'HK, three lecturi'S 
delivennl at Oxford, by Platon E. Drakoules (Oxford, Blackwell, 
Is. 6d. n.), is a very useful account of the later Greek literature. 
Mr. Drakoules brings out the fact that the Greek of the Septua- 
gint would be intelligible even to an uueducat<-d Greek of to-day 
if the "proper" pronunciation were adopted. The peasant 
would understand Ev apxy iiroiij«v o G«it riv ovpavov ^ni ti)v yfiv, 
though, if he were siwaking himself, ho would prohalily say, 
E/t rijv ipxh'' tka/it i Qtlit olifiavi Kai yij. The following is a ]iretty 
example of Neohellenic verse : — 

'H 7Xat''f T6y K\ai>6^v riji roW^f i 
T4 ia/ia ffcYsi tuv Try)yCiy, 

'Hpifia ffKOTij^fi. 
The English version is by Mrs. E. M. Edmonds : — 
Tlie owlet her irj' Ix'giiineth 

Now the song of the binU is still. 
And n quiet mist o'ernhndows 

The outlines of each hill. 
It cannot be s,iid tlmt Mr. A. H. MonciirSinie liiis exliauste<1 
the possibilities of TiiK LrrKiiAiiv Lifk of Enisnviion (Clarke, 
Is.). He has writtt^n an agreeable little booklet, but he has not 
done much more than mention names with which we are all 
familiar. Hume and Stevenson, the Kdiiibttriih Revietr and the 
" Waverley Novels," the E<linburgli old ladies, groti'Sque and 
witty, the visit of Burns, and the roaring supp«frs- all these are 
familiar chnrnctors and topics ; but one would wish for a fresher 
essay and a deo|ier investigation of a very curious history. For 
the Kdinliiir^h of the last century of)'ore<l the strangest cimtra- 
dictions and tlie ixldust contrasts. On the mio hand, the Scotch 
i)hilosoi/hin, men like Hume and Blair, were thinking and preach- 
ing, as Carlyle lias ol)S<>rve<l, in a kind of literary nirrnnii ; they 
wrote fur the world at large, aiming at an abstract liiniianity, 
without a trace >>f national feeling or of Scotch flavmir. And 
on the other han<l, the town was at the same time jieculiarly and 
racily Scot<;h, the homo of old ways ami manners and beliefs, 
slioltering at the same time the last of the .I.-ioobitea and the 
pre<rursors of the .Jacobins. HiiniR, whose visits to Edinburgh 
are so famous, was, in a way, the ty[io of its whole society ; the 
genuine Hums wrote valiant songs and satires in l>ron<l Scotch, 
would fain see King .Tames at " Embro Cross," and was a living 
museum of Scotticism of all kinds, while the nrtificini Hums 
indite<l letters in frigid and florid Eiiglisli to Clarinda, had an 
enligliteno<l sneer fiir fairitM and " such tiuiii[MTy," and 
presente<l a brass cannon to the regicide (iovernniont of France. 
The contrast is piijuant, and it epiUmiizes the contradictions 
and anomalies of the ohl E<linburgh society at largo. 

July IG, 181)8.] 




As ono intoiiHo liluo ftitniM t)io sky 

Hung brunthloBR o'or tho burning laml ; 

A pilj^im of tho lonely quoiit, 

I l>iittle<l with the whelming naud. 

My stronj,'th wan witliore<l up na grnaii 
With Hying Hope in vain I atrovo ; 

Itut Htill thu ahriniiil anint withholil 
Tlio ancred alu'lter of his grove. 

Uoil smote mo with tho ilantl of Fire, 

I poriahod in a blinding swoon ; 
A lifelosa brand my lx)dy liiy, 

Sheer in the bla/.ing core of noon. 

» « « « 

Beyond the furthest marge of Life, 
Divinely poised my spirit stayed ; 

Above the very brink of Death 
Awhile 1 hovered unafraid. 

Beneath mo lay tho narrow vale 

Through which the doom ward travellers faro ; 
And king and clown — a motley crew — 

I saw tho spirits enter there. 

And as I gaEod, from out the gloom 

One purple-robed and crowned with pride 

In solitary splendour came, 

And paused upon the hither side. 

Clutching his state with palsied hands, 

Ho step|)od within tlie murmurous wood ; 

But from his grasp tlio grandeur fell. 
And stark his lean grey spirit stood. 

With nameless terror in his eyes, 

I saw him turn and strive to flee ; 

But (larkne.-is swept across his path, 

And closed about him like the sea. 

I heard a sudden lilt of song 

Above the brooding stillness rise, 

And saw ono striding down tho trail 
With light of laughter in his eyes. 

Afar ho flung his coat of rags 

And stopped among tho whispering grass— 
A shaft of light that cleft the dark, 

I saw his shining spirit pass. 

One whining prayers, one dumb with foar. 
And ono with ringing curses, came : 

Life left then\ stark, and through tho mirk 
Their black souls wTithed in living flame. 

With yearning faces, hand in hand. 

Came two with eager, hurrying tread, 

Who, gazing in each other's oyi'S, 

Stepped fearless down the Way of Dread. 

The world fell from them, and they stood 

Together naked in the t<imb, 
Then, aurooled and winged of Love, 

As one bright stiir they pierced the gloom. 

On, on in swift procession swept, 

In lust of youth, or frail and faint, 

The belted knight, tho eowlod monk, 
Tho sinner pale, tho stiiUvart saint, 

A rout of soldiers slain in war 

That hurtled headlong down the track, 

The sailor flung from storm and wind, 
The martyr bleeding from the rack, 

The t. ' 

The cr.iv i 

n.^ 'lav  

While yat tJwy ■htT*rwl on tl«» hrink 

!>• te afnrit fakre- - 

The pi < liains, 

Tliv monarch <A iiw gliUaring o«i*. 

I Haw t ' ' t . hi* am 

D. m tho h.. ", 

The miiH>r '■ ., 

Tiio pri -ut«, 

Tlie ainnvr with his sin unolokwl, 

Tho saint hi* rubo of •uffenng ca<t. 
They hung a moment on tha rcrrge, 

Then far to doom or rsptora pMMd. 

Along the clanging wBys of Lif'- 

In motley clad tho spirits t: 
But naked all must faoa the wimi 

That blows acroaa the Vale of l>rpad ! 


Hinono nt\: Boohs. 

—  — 

S H E K I D A N . 

Fut-il jamais destinee pins dtrange ? Fils d'un acteur 
8an« fortune, il coininence la viejmrui: ' n. 

Pourtant, a 25 an.s, le voila chef d'un i;.... ... . . . „iijt 

I'dlite de raris^tocratie. Sans un sou, 11 \'it comme un 
prince I 

Dei>ourvu de preparation et d'apprentissage, il fail 
jouer la meme ann^, h 24 ans, une farce, une commie, 
un oin'ra, ijui vont aux nuea ; et ecrit, deux an* apr^ 
sa plus celdbre coiuedie. I.A voi.\ commune !<• >.«.r»» 
bientot premier auteur dramatique de son pay)' 

Puis, tout-iWoup, I'auteur di as 

non point son heureux destin. i ire 

est devenu homme politique. Et il prononce., daiu 
I'affaire la plus Rrave, le discours le ] ' iu 

siecle. Le voilo, comme orateur, plu- , ir. 

L'explosion du sentiment public en sa faveur est unanime. 

Plus loin encore I Ami'' ' nt 

du Regent, Sheridan est I'h , , lu 

royaume. On prdfi^re I'Adretise qu'il a pr^par^ a celle 
du Premier lui-meme. 

Kt, de tout c<'Ia, que retire-t-il ? La misdre ; leu 
dettes ; voil& ce <|(ii demeure de sa fortune. Pas une 
grande place; j>ii.>i menie une pet' a 

donne son jwuvoir i>olitique. .Vi _ )it, 

une fin lamentable et misereuse ; voilk tout ce que ioi a 
iaiss*' sa brillante destinee. 

S'esl-il produit un catacljsme ]iolitique et social? 
Est-ce une revolution qua rMuit .^heridan au beaoin, 
comme Reaumarchais, j>:i 'le? P<>; * " iii 

ne vienne de lui-meme. ' ,; done • ■*» 

de.stinee qui ressemble k an fen d'artifice, dont les 
^clatent I'une apr^s I'autre.toi:' "''-'"  •» 

ce que la nuit revienne sur ta; :.■ >'^f 

Maintes causes furent a I'iBuxTe jjour delenniner ceite 
succession de grandeurs et cette fin lanientable. L'une 




[July 16, 1898. 

dee i>lus con$tante8, a mon nvi8, ce fut le teinjiomniiMit 
metne d - '^' -Ian. ou plutot le don iiitplleotufl (jui liii 
etait lo , ial. 

Ce don, c'est celui de I'effet dramatique, c'est-a-dire 
la faculty de voir et de fain', du premier coup, cc (pii 
frapjiera le plus vivement le public. Dans les aftiiires, cela 
s'apiielle le coup d'<*il, melange d'entregent et d'habitude 
chejt le> ' ''ili'U' iiuuV cliez les autres. Au tln'-atre, 

c'est la '-^sentii'lle : coniine on le rujxjte souvent 

k Paris, c'est I'instinct de la "scdne i\ faire." Les Celtes, dit- 
on, ont cette faculty plus dt'velopjx'e que toute autre race. 
Quoi qu'il en soit, .Slieritlan a toujours, avec une pro- 
digieose surety, trouv^ la scdne k hire, tant au theatre 
quf ' -:» vi6. De la, ses grands succds qui se 
pri' . tons, cotnnie on le sait, jmr explosion. 

Qu'est-ce que sa vie, en effet, sinon une succession de 
coujis de theatre ? Coups de theatre IVnldvement ; le 
duel avec Matthews. Coup de theatre (luand il se revoie, 
d'uD seul coup, auteur dramati(]ue ; puis quand il achete 
la grosse ei de Drury I^ne. Coup de theatre 

son premier , et aussi la fin du second sur Warren 

Hastings. Coup de theatre, encore, quand brule Drury 
Lane. M^me a son demier moment, la scene a faire est 
faite. Qui ne se souvient de I'entrce de I'eveque de Ixjndres 
dans la chambre du mourant? II serait trop long de 
conter a nouveau toutes ces clioses. Mais qu'on se les 
rememore ou qu'on les relise ; et Ton verra, dans tons ces 
episodes de la vie de Sheridan, un arrangement dramatique> 
le plus souvent voulu, parfois aussi fortuit, comme par 
harmonie du soi-t. 

De meme son theatre, si remarquable a tant d'autres 
egards, est, comme sa vie, tout en situations. L' "effet," 
non pas la profondeur, ni meme toujours la verite, voild ce 
que \"ise Sheridan et ce (]u'il atteint. Kien ne jwrte mieux, 
n'est plus " telling," comme vous dites, dans tout le theatre 
anglais, qu*une de ces grandes scenes ou, avec un art si 
sur, il sait ressembler dans une situation frappante des 
personnages en piquant conti^aste. II y a, dans chacune de 
ses pieces, trois ou (juatre scenes a grand effet jKjur les- 
quelles tout semble fait, jar exemple, dans The lilvals, les 
deux entrevaes chez Mrs. Malapro]i, le duel de Kings-Mead- 
Fields ; dans The Scliool fur Saiiulid, les medisances ; la 
vente des tableaux ; la scdne du paravent. (Ju'importent 
a Sheridan quelques invraisemblances, quel<|Ues trous dans 
Taction, si 1'" effet" est atteint? Meme prtKKcuiiation 
(bns la com]M>sition de ses ])erKonnages. lis ne sont 
ni compliques, ni toujours vrais, mais combien {ra])i)ants ! 
(juelle impression ils laissent ! lis ne vivent pas d'une 
profonde vie intcrieure, mais comme leur vie tout en 
dehors e«t miruitante ! lis ont des tics, des manies, des 
noms a n?bu» ; I'un jure, I'autre estrojtie la langue ; ils se 
font p«|iiilihre ; ils se font contrast*^; bref, tout ce qui iH;ut 
en T le relief pxt<;rieur est instinctiveuient et 

wli nt utili:«c-. (tui, en verite, le theatre de 

.Sh- : li'un homme(|ui a le don dramatique de I'effet. 

Kt atiiwi son <^lo juence. Son snccds est maigre dans 

],,,. ."■ -- — . ...... ■.IICX. 

" J'ai cda en moi. Pardieu, il faudra bien cjue cela sorte." 

Ce qu'il a en lui, il le sait bien. C'est la faculte de 
diseerner les situations )\ effet, et de les mettre a profit. 
Mais ces situations la, on ne jieut les creer sur la scene 
politi(jue comme sur la scene dramatii}ue. Laissez-en 
venir une, et il ne la man(|ueni jtfis. 

Kile vient, en etiet, avec le proces de Warren 
Hastings. Tons les elements du drame sont la, et il en 
joue avec une habilete d'autant plus consonim*' qu'elle est 
tout instinctive. II y a, dans cette affaire, des j)rince8se8 
spoliees d'une part ; d'autre part un consul tout-puissant ; 
et nous sommes au temps de I'elocjuence melairamatique. 
Aussi quel chef-ti'u'uvre, et <juel succes I C' ]>ar un 
semblable procede d'antithdse, entre ceux qui sacrifient 
leur fortune a la libertd en Fmnce, et la liberte a leur 
fortune en Angleterre, que Sheridan comjiose son discours 
contre Pitt et renouvelle un instant sa gloire d'orateur. 

Voici done un des elements du succds de Sheridan. 
C'est une variete du sentiment esthetique qu'ont eue plus 
tard, chez nous, Scribe et Sardou ; non la plus exquise, 
mais la jilus utilisable ; celle qui consiste a saisir en toute 
chose ce (jui frappe la foule conteuqwmine ; qualite 
d'homme de talent plutot que de gdnie, qui suflit a faire 
un Beaumarchais, pas un Molidre ; et un Sheridan, non 
l^as un Siiakespeare. 

Certes, le temjierament artistique de Sheridan etait 
de nature ii lui procurer des succes raj)i(les. ^lais ce qui 
fut la force de Sheridan fut au.ssi sa faiblesse. La nature 
mfeme de son talent le disposait k ne point progresser, a 
ne ])oint se renouveler. Car le don de I'effet s'allie trcs 
bien a une certaine paresse des facultes creatrices, a la 
jMiralysie de la volonte, a I'exasiK-ration de la sensibility, 
qui concourent ensemble a la ruine d'un homme. 

Paresse de I'intelligence, jjarce qu'ayant jwur objectif 
I'effet plutot (jue la verite, elle ne s'ajiplique guere aux 
fecondes analyses, aux jMitientes observations. Kile est a 
I'affut, non pas en marche. Or, dans la vie intellectuelle, 
(|ui n'avance jms recule. Sheridan a recule d'un Iwut k 
I'autre de sa carriere litteraire. Sa ineilleure jiidce fut la 
premiere ; son meilleur discours, le premier; rci)Ofjue la 
plus feconde de sa vie intellectuelle, celle de sa jeunesse. 

Paralysie de la volonte, car a quoi bon s'acharner (juand 
le succes vient de I'effet, c'est-a-dire, en somme, d'un 
concours de circonstances heureuseinent utilise ? A ()Uoi 
bon construire laborieusement et exactement une pidce 
aux dessous solides, <]uand celle <|u'on jK'ut faire est sure de 
reus iir, maigre sa fragilite, par nn merveilleux sens de 
I'effet scffnitjue ? A quoi bon etudier profondement les 
affaires de I'Ktat (juand. dans les grandes circonstances, 
pent suftire Timprovisatrice habilete d'un auteur? 

Un tel temperament se passe vite de regularite, 
d'attention, d'esprit de suite. Aussi la vie de Sheridan 
est-elle legendaire par son decousu. II devint incapable de 
se livrer ii un travail jiers^verant, de se trouver a un 
rendez-vous, de reimndre a une lettre. Cliacun connait 
sur ce ](oint de son caractere des histoires invraisemblables, 
et i>oiirtant exactes : pidces baclees, ceuvres encore 
inachevees rpiand le ridean se leve. I'ne telle desertion 
de la volonte expliijue la prodigalite, la dissipation (jui 
firent tant (tour consommer la ruine de Sheridan. Kile 

July If), 1898.J 





pput in<''mp compromettro Ift probit<1 (\u\ ii'est, apr^s tout, 
que In vi)lont«' appli<ju<' ji I'lionneur. 

Knfin lVxa,s|K'ration de la senHibilJtc (|ui e«t la con- 
dition memo du talent, rjuand il nVnt fait ni d'analyse, 
ni de volonte ; reuervement general (jui aecomjiagne 
raffniblisHement des enerfjies ; fut encore iK)ur Sheridan 
une cause de ruine. (juelles inrpiiiStudes de cieur cliez 
cet liomme souriant et gai ! C'omnie il a mis de lui-nieme 
dans Falkland ! Ne s'est-il pas torture, nVt-il jmw ausai 
torture sa femine sans raison ? A mesure iju'il avan^ait 
en Age, cetait un veritable dtHrmjuement de son etre 
sensible (jui s'operait. Sa terreur en face de la douleur 
physique et de ra])par(>il de la mort; son horreur de tout 
ce (|ui est penihie, moralement et physitjuement ; sa 
materialit(5 tr^s accentu^e ; ses hantises enfin ; tout cela, 
qui est i)rouve {)ar des faits, tout cela en temoigne. Kaut- 

il pnrler de I'ivrognerie deja jienetree ']■>'« 1 • \'^' •■* ■'•■ 

la folia qui etait aux jjortes? 

Je sais bien (pie, dans ce tableau, je u'ai iK)iiit inontre 
tout ce qui fut et restera le cluirme eternel de Sheridan. 
II est une part de son talent qui ne s'explique [mis j)ar le 
don de reflfet. C'est la vie intense (pi'il sut commuiiicjuer 
;\ toutes ses creations. Mais cela, c'est I'inexplicable (|ui 
est dans tout genie. II m'a suffi de marquer I'une des 
causes psychologiques et du suec^s et de la decadence de 

Jusqu'au bout, son destin fut abondant en situations 
frappantes. La splendeur soleiinelle de sji ponipe fun^bre 
apros I'lionneur abandonnee de sa vieillesse agonisante, 
tel fut le dernier coup de thejitre dans celle des destinees 
d'ecrivains qui en est peut-etre le plus fournie. 



By a. E. W. mason. 

Tlio next morning Walker wont across to seo Hnttunis, but 
found tlmt Hiittenis Imil gone away. Thoro w«re ii couplo of new 
volumes upon the fciblo an<l Walker glanced at the titles. They 
wore Burton's account of his pilgrimage to Al-Madinah an<l 

Five nights afterwards WalkiT was smoking a pipe on the 
verandah when he fancied that he heard a rubbing, scuffling 
.sound as if some one very cautiously was climbing over the fence 
of his couiiiound. The moon was low in the sky and dipping down 
toward the forest ; indeed the rim of it touelie<l the tree-to|w so 
that while a full half of the enclosure was bare to the yellow 
light that half which bonlered on the forest was inky black in 
shadow ; and it was from the furthest comer of this second half 
that the sound came. Walker bent forwnnllistc^ning. He heard 
the sound again, and a moment after anothiT sound which left 
him in no doubt. For in that dark corner he knew that a ntnuber 
of palisades for repairing the fence were pile<l and the second 
.sound which ho heard was a rattle as some one stumbhxl acainst 
them. A\'alker went inside and fetched a rifle. 

\\lu'n he came back hi' saw a negro creeping across the briglit 
opt'n space towards the Residency. Walker hailed to him to 
.stop. Instead the negro ran. Ho ran towiinls the wicket gato 
HI the palis<i(U!S. Walker shouted again ; the figure only ran 
the fast*!r. He had covore<l half the disbmce before Walker 
tiro<l. He clutched his right forearm with his left hand, but he 
did not stop. Walker tired again, this time at his legs, ami the 
man dropjx^d to the ground. Walker heard his sorrants stirring 

•a hu ran down ' Ho cr<m ih* mnpn sail 

tho negro ii{>(>ku ' i.tjt in Kuj;, . . thn vi.itjB of 


" For (Jod's ""iV" l"-.T» jmor Mrrurfs off ! ' 

W»lkor mn t .<, nwt hiii itorvuiU ftt Uw foot of Um 

•to[Mi, nnd onleri-<i \.„. m nark. Ho Wl »h<A *t • monkoy ba Mid. 
Then hu retunuxl to Hntti-nui. 

" Dicky, aru yuu hurt ? " he whicpvrwi. 

" You hit mo each tiroo you firwl, bat nut turj bailljr I 

Ho bamlagtMl Hattiran' arm snd thit'h with itripa of hU •hirt 
and wnitt'd by hifi iiid. . t. Tl»»ii 

him and carrie<l him U' ._. , . «i< u m 

stops into his bwl room. It waa a long aixi 
For one thing Walker <larc«l mako no noiiut aiio ■.... 
lightly with his l<>a<l ; for another, tho iitvpa ». ami 

rickety, with a narrow balustradu ' ' ' It 

Boeme<l to Walker that the day wt. Ik^I 

tho top. Unco or twiov Hatt<.Taii ntuttd in hia ' be 

feared the man would <liu then aisl there. For ai hta 

blood dripped ami pattonsl like heavy r»in-<lrop« on tbo woutW 

Walker laid Hntteras on his Uxl aixl exaniiiw«1 hia 
wounds. One bullet hail paMutl through the flvsl'v i^.rt ..f tito 
forearm, tho other through tho fleshy part of hi igh. 

But no bones were broken and no arteries cot. Waim  hl  tim, 
bako<I some plantain loaves, aixl applied them aa a puultioe. 
Then ho went out with a |>ail of water anl - ■• tho 

steps. Again he ilartH) not make any noiM< ; .> ' on 

daybreak before he lia<l <l '' wa« 

not onde<l. Ho had still to ' ;a«' 

skin, ami tho sun was up U-tore i: ipon the 

ground an<l wont to sleep with his ba „. 

" Walker," Hatteras called out in a low voice, an hour or 
80 later. 

Walker woke up and crossed over to tho bed. 

" Uicky, I'm frightfully sorry. I couldn't know it »a^ you. 

" Thafs all right, Jim. Don't you worry about that. What 
I wanted to say was that nobody hail better know. It wouldn't 
do, would it, if it got aliout ? " 

" Oh, I am not so sure. People would think it rather a 
creditiiblo proceeding." 

Hatteras shot a puzzle<l look at his fricrol. Walker, how- 
over, did not notice it, and continued. " I saw Burton's account 
of his pilgrimage ; I might liavo known that it wa« just the sort 
of thing to apfical to you." 

" Oh, yes, that's it," said Hattoros lifting himself up in 
botl. Ho spoke eagerly, porhnps at''** ' *' Ye*, 

that's it. I have always been keen •• native 

thoroughly. It's after all no less than one .s duty if one has to 
rule them, ami since I couhl spoak their lingo " — In- l<r"k<' off 
and retunuMi to tho subject uhicli luul |>roii 
Walker. " Hut, all the same, it woubln't il.. 
to know." 

" There's no difiiculty about tlmt," .-miil Walker, " I'll give 
out that you iiave come back with the fever aiHl that I am 

nursing you. Fortunately there's no doctor haisly t 

making inconvonient examinations." 

Hatterns know something 
tion.s Walker poultici><l and b;i 
The bandaging, however, v 
muscles contracte<l in H:i' 
slightly, still he limped- 
not, however, on that ace- 
more than once Walker, when his lights Wt ; 
smoking a pipe on the verainlah, wouhl see a I 

■, ami under hu .nrii - 
m until ho nx-overwl. 
, and, »K a result, the 
'wl bo l-mpxl, ever so 
He di.l 
ns, alKl 
I he was 
-„..rv with a 
trskiling walk cross his componiMl anil pawi stealthily thmugh the 

wicket in tho fence. Walk<r •■■■^ — ••  to expoatul.-l^ ■" •"■ 

his friend. 

" It's too dangerous a ganif nv ;i man lo play for aii> 
of time. You will bo fouml out now that you limp. Y' _ " 

to give it up." 



[July 16, 1898. 

Hattenu Ruwle  atraiige rpply. 

'• I'll try to," h« mid. 

Walker poixlem) over the w<>nls (or aome time. He net thorn 
nittc hy biiIp in his thought* with thikt confoMiion whiuh Miktt<>rii8 
Iwal nuwlo to him <iiii> i-vciiing. Ho tuiktMl himi«-lf whcthtT, nftcr 
•II, Hatt«<r»ii' (•xplHiiAtiun of hi* ooiMhict wax Kiiicort>, whi>tli(>r 
it w»» ratlly n il«»«irp t« know th«« iiutivv thoroughly wliich 
pcunptwl thpM- > ^ : mill then ho rpinomlH-nxl tliitt lio 

hi nn e l f hail iinit ^ I ho oxpluimtion to HiitUTit.s. Witlkor 

begkn to feel iiiioaoy — moro tlinn uiu>ii«y, nctnally nfniid on liis 
friemr* account. Hntt«ra« iuwl ncknowK-dgwl tlint tlio country 
(aacinatMl him, anl fancinatwl him through it« hidooiis si<lo. 
Waa this maaqnorailing as n black man a fnrthor priKif of tho 
fascination ? Waa it, an it wore, a stop downwards towardti a 
eloaer aasociation ? Walkor souglit to laugli the notion from his 
mind, hut it roturn<><l an<l rt-turnod, and hero and thoro an 
ino vo it Btrongth and colour. 

 1 throo wook*' absonco, Walker BHuntorc<l 
ovor to tho R«'»i(l. rds four o'clock in the afternoon. 

Hattcras was tryii ,_ m tho Court-house, which formed tho 

ground floor of the Residency. Walker stepixxl into the room. 
It was packed with a naked throng of blacks, and the heat was 
ovcrpoWerinR. At tho end of tho hall sat tlatteras. His worn 
face shone out amongst tho black lu>a<ls about him wliito and 
waxy like a ganlonia in a bouquet of black flowers. V.'alkor 
invented his simile and roaliKo<l its appositonoss at one and the 
same moment. Bouquet was not an inappropriate wonl since 
there is a piercing aroma about the native of the Niger delta 
when he begins to pt-rspire. 

Walker, however, thinking that the Court would rise, deter- 
mine<I to wait for a little. But, at the last moment, a negro 
was pnt up to answer to a charge of participation in Fetish rit)?s. 
The case seemed sufTicioiitly clear from the outset, but somehow 
Hatteras delayed its conclusion. There was evidence and un- 
rebutte<l evidence of the usual dutails — human sacrifice, mutila- 
tions, an<I tho like, but Hatteras pro8se<l for more. He sat until 
it was dunk, and then ha<l candles brought into tho Co\irt-houso. 
He seemetl imleed not so much to l)e investigating the negro's 
guilt as to be adding to his own knowledge of Fetish ceremonials. 
And Walker could not but perceive that he took more than a 
merely scientific pleasure in the increase of his knowlo<lge. His 
face appeared to smooth out, his eyes became quick, intere8te<l, 
almost excite<l ; and Walker again had the queer impression 
that Hatteras was in spirit participating in the loathsome cere- 
monies and participating with an intense enjoyment. In the 
wnI the negro was convicte<l and the Court rose. But he might 
have l)een convicto<l a g<«Kl throo ho\irs before. 

The next moniing Walker had t*) make an early start down 
river for IVjnny town, and as he stood on the landing-stage 
Hatteras came down to him from the Residency. 

" Vou heani that negro trie<l yesterday ? " he aske<1 with 
an assumption ni carelessness. 

" Yes, what of him ? " 

" He escape*! last night. It's a bad business, isn't it ? " 

Walker noddeil in reply and his l)oat pushwl ofl". But it 
stuck in his mind for the greater part of that day that the prison 
a<ljoine<l tho Court-house and so formed part of the ground floor 
of the Residency. 

Walker came back from Ifcnny a month later and hurried 
across U> his fricnil. 

" Jim," Said Hatteras, starting up, " I have got a year's 
(••re ; I am going home." 

" Dicky ! " crie<l Walker, and he nearly wrung his liand 
from his arm. " That's grand news." 

" Yes, old man, I thought you woidd be gla<l. I mil in a 
fortnight ; " aivl he did. 

For the first month Walker Wiis glad. A year's leave would 
make a new man of Dick Hatteras, he tliought, or, at all events, 
restore the old man, sane ami sound, as ho was Ix-foro ho avme 
to the W««t African roast. Durine the socond nionth Walker 
ttoftan to feel lonely. In tho thii ° ' ..I Inarnt 

it during the fourth ainl fifth. I ' . n to say 

to himsolf, " What a time iK>or Dick must have ha<l all those 
six yoikrs with Uiose curso<l forests about him. I don't wonder 
— I don't wonder." He tumixl disconsolattdy to his banjo and 
playoil for tho rest of tho year ; all throvigh tho wot soiison while 
tho nkin came down in a stoady roar and only tho curlews cried 
— until Hatt»'ni8 roturnod. Ho n-liinxxl at tho top of his spirits 
and health. Of ODurso ho wits hall-niarkml Wu»t African, but no 
man gets rid of that stiiuip. 

" Jim," said ho, " I am ongagod to bo married." 

Jim danced round him in delight. " What an ass I have 
been," he thought, " why didn't I think of that cure myself ? " 

" When is it to be ? " ho aske<l. 

" In eight months. You'll come homo and soe mo through." 

Walkor apoo<l,and for oight months listono^I to praisos of the 
la<ly. There wore no moro n<x-tunial oxjHMlitions. In fact, 
Hatteras soomtMl absorbed in tho diurnal discovery of new per- 
fections in his future wife. 

" Yes, she seems a nice girl," Walker commontetl. He 
found her upon his arrival in England more human than 
Hatteras' conversation had led him to expect, and she proved to 
him that she was a nice girl. For she listened to him lecturing 
her on the proper way to treat Dick for hours without the 
slightest irritation and with only a faintly visible amusement. 
Besides she insisted on returning with her husband to Bonny 
river, which was a sufliciontly courageous thing to undertake. 

A year lator Walker roturnetl to England and from that time 
only mode occasional journeys to Wost Africa ; so that for 
awhile he almost lost sight of Hatteras and consequently slept 
the sliep of the untrouble<l. One morning, however, he arrive«l 
luiexpeotodly at tho settlement and at once called on Hatteras. 
He did not want to be announced, but ran up the 8tei>8 and into 
the dining-room. He found Mrs. Hatteras crying. She dried 
her eyes, w-elcomod Walkor, and said that she was sorry, but her 
husband wsvs away. 

Walker started, looked at her eyes, and asked hesitatingly 
whether ho could help. Mrs. Hattera.s replied with an ill-assume*! 
sur[>rise that she did not vindersttind. Walker suggested that 
there was trouble. Mrs. Hatteras denied tho truth of the sug- 
gestion. Hatteras pressed the {K>int and Airs. Hatteras yielded 
BO far as to assert that there was no trouble in which Hatteras 
was concerned. Walker hardly thought it the ocavsion for a 
parade of manners, and insisted on pointing out that his know- 
ledge of her husband was intimate and dated from his school 
days. Thereupon Mrs. Hatteras gave way. 

" Dick goes away alone," she said. " Ho stains his skin 
and goes away at night. He tells me that he must, that it's the 
only way by which he can know the natives, and that so it's a 
sort of duty. Ho says the black tells nothing of himself to the 
white man— ever. You must go amongst them if you are to 
know them. Ho he goes, and I never know when he will come 
bock. I never know whether he will come back." 

" But he has done that sort of thing on and otf for years 
and he has alway.n come back," replied Walker. 

" Yes, but one day he will not." 

Walkor comforted hor as well as ho could, praised Hatteras 
for his conduct, though his heart was hot against him, spoke of 
risks that every man must run who serves the Empire. " Never 
a lotus closes, you know," he said, and went back to tho factory 
with tho consciousness that ho had bwm tolling lies. 

It was no sense of duty which prompt<^d Hatteras, of that ho 
was certain, and ho waited -ho waiti'd liy night in his compound. 

On the fourth night ho hoani tho scuffling sound at the 
corner of tho fence. Tho night was black as tho inside of a 
coflin. Half a regiment of men might steal |)ast him and he not 
see them. .\ccorc|ingly he walkod o.iulioiisly to tho palisade 
which separate*! tho enclosuro of tho Residoncy from his own, 
felt along it until ho reached tho little gate and stationed him- 
self in front of it. In a few momenta he thought that he heard 
a man breathing, but whether to the right or the left ho could 
not toll : and then a groping hand lightly touche<l his face and 
drew away again. Walkor saiil nothing, but hold his breath and 
ilid not move. The hand was strclchod out again. This time it 

July 16, 1898.] 



touoluxl Ills bniiiBt iitiil iiuivwl ucro«ii it until it fi-lt n biitt'ti i)f 
Wulkor's c'oiit. Tlitin it was simtclicil iiwny and Wulki^r hi'unl » 
gnspini; imlruw of tlii< l>ri<itth iinil ufttTWiirtU u loiind ii« of » iium 
turnini? in a flurry. Wulknr sprnnR forward nml cnuclit n naki-d 
sliouliltir with ono Imnd, a nnkod nrm with thu other. 

" Wait It bit, Dick Hiittcra*," ho itaid. Thcru wim ii l-m 
cry, and thon it himky voicn uddrcRSud him r<'ii|N-ctfully ai 
" Diuldy " in triidi-Knylish. 

'• That won't do, Dick," naid Walkt-r. 

The voico babbh-d mori) tra<K'-KngliHh. 

" If you're not Dick Hattfras," continual Walker, tight- 
unin;; his graup, " You'vo no iiianntT of right hurn. I'll give 
you till [ count tun and then I shall ahoot." 

Walker counted up to nine aloud and then - 

" Jim," said Hatteras, in his natural voice. 

" That's better," said Walker, " Let's go in and talk." 

(To be continued.) 


The Forest Lovers. A Romance. By Maurice 
Hewlett. 7J x5in., 384 pp. rx>ndon and New York, I'flM. 

MacmlUan. 6/- 

Mr. Hewlett's entrancing storj", tliia epic of the greenwood, 
which he has called " The Forest Lovers," might well serve as 
an instance and example of the true as distinguished from the 
false romance. For it is time that such a distinction should lie 
made ; it is time to say, once for all, that romance is not an 
ntfair of trunk-hose or chain-mail, of " thou " and " thee "and 
Wardour-street Knglish. Romance rules over all times and all 
places ; its differentia is not odd co.stume and pseudo-archaism 
but the .lense of mystery, that whisixT of the unknown, of the 
things beyond, which absolutely sojiarato the romantic from the 
naturalistic work, whether the period of the story lie last year or 
of six hundred years ago, whetlier the scene lie modern I^onilon 
or the ancient legendary forest. .\s it happi-ns Mr. Hewlett has 
chosen the latter scene. 

My story [he proli>ei7,psl will take you into times and iip«pe« alike 
ruile nnd uncivil. Hlnod will be spilt, virifins utiffer (li«trp!««'« ; the hom 
will Hound ihrough woodland glades ; dogs, wolves, dcH-r, snd men. 
Beauty and the Beasts, will tumble each other, seeking life or death with 
their proper tools. 'I'hero should 1h> mad work, not devoid of entertain- 
ment. When you rral the word AV/j/i'mV , if you have lahouieil so far, 
you will know something of Moigrnunt Forest and the Countess Isabel ; 
the Abbot of Holy Thorn will have p<istured and schemed (with you 
behind the arras) ; you will have wnmlered with Isoult and will know 
why she was called La Desirous, with Prosper le (i«i and will uiiderstaod 
how a man may fall in love with his own wife. 

This, all will allow, is a rare beginning, and it must l>e said 
that when the last page is reached and with it the promisc<l 
Explicit we feel that for once a thorough success in literature has 
been achieved, that the romantic spirit, about which so much 
has b<^en written, has once more found a pure and an enthusiastic 

For Mr. Hewlett tinderstands the sweet uses of the antique. 
Ho knows that its value as a literary motive is really the value 
of the indofinit*^, of the mysterious; that as a London street, 
hideous in reality, seems wonderful, beautiful, seen through the 
veil of mist and sunset, so the life that is past gains U-auty 
liocause it is fur otf, all its sharp outlines, its hard actu- 
alities have disappeared, and so we see the middle ages as we see 
a city or a wood mirrored in wat<>r, transfigured, indistinct, but 
glorious. And thus the author of " The Forest Lovers " has 
conceived his jierio<l. He has carefully avoide*! the extraordinary 
mistake of many writers, who, having first gone to the past for 
romantic effect, have then put out all their effort* to show that 
the past was as conunonplace as the present appears to l>e ; they 
dress their hero in a jerkin and devftte three hundred and o*l<l 
pai,'OS to demonstrating that the most uninspired and ordinary 
thoughts may dwell l)enoath medieval attire. Rut Mr. Hewlett 
has Ix'en more happily g\iided. -Vs a story " The Forest Lovers " 
is excellent ; there are love and Iwittle, strat;tgem and counter- 
stratiigem, the siege of castles, the parley of coat-annour, 

'■ <■ m 

'! >i . ■.•■>al 

iiiannera niiieli more niwiy than Sir V \y 

;...l. I ... » ......,,.., doubt whetlier he tab.. - a 

<i, but Mr. MowUtt, who is i> .or 

\iiiii ."^ii »»iinei. .» ' - - ■* of a^'euia ' ''• 

hai inaatorol the > "f ri>insn< ' 

of !■ -lilt US .i: -"n»»' lh*> ^'J 

for.' now not » • may aw > id 

th< k. 

of ' ajr 

justly claim a pU' ml 

■ymlMil of inner vi i , i.,w 

knighta from " Aniadii " and " Don (^isot* " to '* itflk- 
wiok " and " Hucklcliorry Finn " *r« typ«<« of wrary man. 
Romance show* ua our own Uvea, our paaaage Ihrough an un- 
known world, under a lieautifiil s ' iina((aa which will 
always enchant, which kc«p thei aver : and tbii* 
such a tjtie as this, with it ' " 'iil 
" l«etwp«'!i th» iii'iiintniiis H! vr, 
will •, 

otf. ' er 

of Tortsenlier, its wibi wood crea' .1*1 

always find readers, since like l: . . -n 
of matters that are of perpetual interest. The '' 
vainly tries to pr«««nt life through the medium of ; 

showing us thu iin|>ortant and the uDim[>ortsnt, tl ' >nt 

and the insignificant, the " facta " of exi«t<-nc<-, me need 

matter of thu world unaniniattid, uiitransfonue<t )iy the idaa ; 

and, on the other hand, the ■!«• 

oars, finding sermoin in st 1 li« 

romancers alone, : lo 
place, are the triii- nt 
symbols they show us all the beauty and all the signin' 


Literature returns a|:ain and again t<i ' 
ful. SbSokita, by .■\rcher P. ' 
(is.); A Hkikk or Jap* s, by Carlton I)awe( H 
TJi« Dantkk, by Jamea BIythc Patton 
RoMASi'Bor A Nautch Girl, by Mrs. Franl- 
Os.) ; Hassan : a Fellar : a Romance ><t i .■ 
Gilman (Oay and Itinl, 7s. Od.) : A Maobi Mai; 
(Pearson, 0«.) ; Ax E.^VKriAN ComrrrB, \\ 
(Pearson, '2s. Od.)are eadi mid ,ill witne«««'« fo t 
from ordinary surmuii' 
surely as the ftK>t p 

white highway and the winding, uncertain 
fiehls, hankers for the latter with its promise ' 
so does literature feel again and again that impulse to tuni away 
from the beaten track of life and t<> adventure in ' '•' "•< 
cerUkin fields. Mr. Crouch, the author of " 8ei 
has sought the coasts of Southern Anierit-a, bum i 
to the perio<l when the S|>itnish colonies were n>rid; 
tlie mother country. .\ yo 
Cochrane in the " jwtriot 
a S]iaiiiard, and (' 
her name to the i 

well-conc<>ct«'<l story. Intleod, the l>ook i 
With admirable ingenuity the author pi 

from his Spanish prison, in a hollow tree, whence he cmi watch 
the enemies in pursuit of him. 

" I have quite rajoyrd my talk with you oiMbr Uw nbada of tbi* 

large tree," eV- - •' *■■ 

fu^itire. " 1 

cl».sely. •' K\. ... .. „ 

resist the tenipUition of putting 
it is hollow, and then' is an; <>h. 

.\« .Miguel spoke he drew < 
In return I covered him with n 
but with aiUnirable self-control rrn srkr.i : — 

" It .scorn* to me a very ailly waato of powder. 
you might fire into erery bash and tbickat that you 



n,Qa.); BiJU 

'•-  the 


111 nry 


< Ii. As 
- the 

; _ Tiew, 

>wn. i4D- 

i> iiirt 


inl to Anita, the frietid ot Iba 

" eoDtinaed. eianiininf it BOI* 

,.-li«hman es«itip<l, I ran addon 

bullet into every lug tree I tee. If 


out at ooc*." 
nted it at the tree, 
a tnraesl very pale. 

For the Ml 



[July 16, 1898 

lli(ael made no aiunrnr, but qnirkljr look aim at a portion of tlw trunk 
OB a terd with mj botlj. 8elf-p(C«>TvatioD rianiuured for me to Srr, 
Iml ivaMn ar|t«<l mo to abataio. ... I tleeided to run the risk of 
faetiic bit, awl faced tbr asriteaiil'* piatol. 

Ufcourae, W. WiUlitsh, the hero, escapes thin und iimny 
oUior |Kail», and in fiimlly luwlo tiappy by tho lovo of tli« 
ohariiiiii^ St-iioritB Mont«'iiiir. Still, tho common pliico is siiruly 
not altogt'thor an affair of timr and of (.■limnti> : and the sorrot of 
romance lios in nonu'thiii}; niori" tlum the dowription of di.stiint 
ImmIs ami unfamiliar ciiiitoins and Hbundunt li^htin^'. Mr. 
Carlton Dawe's story, " A Uride of Japan," works on the same 
plan with a difference. Mr. Crouch tnists solely to tho stron;; 
right arm of his hero, in his prowc a and escapes ; but Mr. Dawe, 
who inserts some pretty pictures of Japan into his tale, has taken 
a oomnion motive of fiction and, as it were, dressed it up in a 
kimono. An ill-assorted marria-je, the troid)lc and niLsory that 
•re sure to follow on the union of a with a girl of the 
people — thesw have often been the novelist's topics, and these 
are tho motives in all essentials of " \ Bride of Jai)an." Here 
is a good example of the Ja)Mknese effect :— 

The soqI ot the goililera Inari, when in hi<r most bi-novolcnt mood 
she showers ble«»injp« upon tho rici'-fi.Ods, looked out from the clenr, 
brown eyes of .Sana-Pan. The sun, dropping away westward Iwyond tlie 
slopes of Kuji-Vama, tin- Rroat fire mountain, saw something in those 
pore eye* which made him linger ttierc. He |dayed about her hair : he 
tipped with scarlet the full lips : he set the bloo<l dnneing beneath the 
dear olirc skin. Tlie coral hair-pins flushed a brighter red ; those of 
mother-of-pearl shone like gold. Wrapped was she in sunshine, and 
faiuie<i with the fragrance of the idam-blossums from the adjacent orchard. 

This landscape, however, and tho picture of tho younj; Japanese 
girl amongst the blossoms are but tho prelude to a K<(ualid and 
melancholy story, such as an English village or a London suburb 
might well furnish. Henry Tresilian, tho English merchant, 
marries Sasa-San against the advice of all his friends, and in the 
rMult, of course, the imago amongst the plum-blossoms vanishes 
ami a dirty Oriental wife remains, he finds himself exiled from 
Eurojwan society and forced to live with a woman who persists in 
a<}uatting on the floor, in eating greasy mosses in a primitive 
fashion, who finally dishonours and abandons him. It is an old 
story ; mutalU mtitandit it is tho tale of Warrington in " Pen- 
dennis " and of countless novels, only the scenery and tho 
costumes are Japanese. " Bijli the Dancer " is an interesting 
book, not as a story, but as a careful picture of Indian manners. 
The tale, which relates how Bijli the dancing woman fell in lovo 
with the Naw^b Bahadur and became his mistress, and 
siokeneil in the palace for tho old, free roaming life, is enter- 
taining enough in itself, but the |(ict\ires of the land.scajto and of 
the court of the rajah are better than the story, and best of all, 
because most eastern, is the by-plot of tho lovo and tragic 
ending of Kilsim and : — 

" Ah, they were happy togcthtr" (so speaks the inevitable go-lielween) 
'• n<'- K .•II" »t..l II... ixjy Mumt.^z. If you ««k, Were it better if the 
J" red «nd ilied, and Mumtftxnn dwelt on in her 

barr (iu« than meet their fate as they did ?— my lonl, 

if yon s«k this, who ran snuwer? I can only say this, that my old heart 
grew fresh once more with thiir npturi-s and love, and my KAsim grew 
to a man, and the bloo<l throbbed strong through his Teins, and hia life 
was a joy. And for her, the image of K&sim kos stamped on her heart, 
Bii'l unqnenefaahle Brc had entered her veins, hhould her youth and 
beauty be left to languixh and fade? " 

" Ah, old woman," eieUimed Rabltdur Khun, " what else can be 
said f Vot them it wa* best to live at thiy did and to die I For the 
Are of passion coninimca to the marrow those who are not permitted to 

It will lie seen that Mr. I'atton has been successful in catching 
the Orioiita! mnnncr. in I'x.king at the worhl with an Eastern 
ej. -es his lMH)k is high)}' successful, 

an: I. riter of India, not an English girl 

in native costume. 'I'he weakness of the )>ook lies in tho slight 
cbaraetflr of the plot, in its lack of incident, and we believe that the 
•uaoMw of the story w<iuld have liceti greater if Bijli hiul taken a 
rabordinate place and Mumtdzan ha<1 been promoted to the rank of 
heroine. Mrs. Frank Penny in the " Romance of a Naut«;h 
Oirl " has hit upon a lietter plot than that of " Itijli," hut her 
•tmuapbcre is not so good. Mr. Pattuu sees Indian life in an 

Indian mirror, while Mrs. Penny looks at it from tho standpoint 
of tlio English colony. But she has adopted one of tho many wise 
counsels of Stcviuison, and a neat map instructs and entices tho 
reailer, showing him tho {sisition of the European houses of 
Chongalcm, Tinnevelly, of the notivo town, of the Scjmy lines, 
but cliiolly and csiK'cially of the Sacred To(n> of B.myans, the 
Sacrificial Enclosure, and the Devil Tree. The plot turns on the 
myst«Mious disappearance of William Manning, the district 
doctor's brother, and after many false scents tho polici' susiH>ct 
the |ioojari, or pritfst, who serves the Devil Tree. InsjM-cting tho 
8acr«>d enclosiu-e they find that an aloe has been moved from its 
(xisition and replant*^!, and, believing the nuuilored iKKly of 
William Manning to lie bem<ath it, they proceed to work with 
hoes and sjiades : - 

The two men from the temple bad advanced to the edge of the hole, 
and ttood silently watching the procee<lings. Uue of them was tho old 
poojari. Neither gave look nor sign which could be interpreted into 
anything denoting emotion, whether of fear or curiosity. Suddenly the 
]HH>jari stooped forward and said something to the coolies. With a cry 
of dismay they one and all leais-d from the grave and flung down 
their tools. 

The priest had told the labourers that they were digging up tho 
body of a sacrificial animal, and tho major who was conducting 
tho search was forced to dig himself and to call two of his 
Mahomedan policemen to his assistance : — 

It was an unpleiisant task, but it retpiired very little more labour to 
ex|io8c the body. As the earth wn.s scrajied away something like a liad 
word e.scsiXMl from the lips of the major. 

" A buffalo ! by all the gods and devils of the heathen ! " he 
shouted, as he .scrambled out of the hole. 

Vet the suspicions of tho search party turne<1 out to be justified, 
for the bixly was inside the buffalo ! Mrs. Penny has contrived 
a very pretty puzzle. One is sorry to find that she has succiunbed 
to the temptation of the " Sjiockled Bund," for this methisl of 
murder is now a mere connnouplace of fiction. " Hassan : a 
Fellah " offers a good deal of difliculty to tho critic. On the one 
hand, tho story of Ha.ssaii and his sweetheart, Jlilwe, is well 
contrived und interesting, while Mr. Henry (jilman's knowledge 
of Palestine and the fellaheen is evidently both intiniato and 
extensive. Tho ground, too, is comparatively new, and it must 
be said that the " local colour " is admirably worke<l in, so that 
wo have a vivid and picture8<iue impression of the life of these 
villagers about Jerusalem, and of the magical a]>]>«arance of the 
Holy City, rising white from tho white rocks, with tho aureole 
of the afterglow about it. All this is excellent, but tho book 
runs to 5!17 jiages of closely-set typo, and many of these ^mges 
are occupied, it must be said, by tho irrelevant observations of 
the author. Mr. Oilman has a text from the Bible, a scrap of 
anthro{»<»log>', an ethnological speculation, a little essay on 
morals ready for every occasion, and in consequence tho action 
of the jieasant-drama is ulogg(^d, and the glowing colour of the 
East blurred by this constant interposition of the " chorits," 
justifying, explaining, illustrating, prophesying. Let the author 
remember that as the foundation of a building, though all- 
important, is hidden Ixineath the oarth, so tho materials of a 
ronumco should be, in like manner, (•on<'ealed, and bo only 
inferred by their effect- that is, a vivid an<l stirring story. 
Even in the hands of Thackeray the " chorus " is sometimes 
tedious ; but if Mr. (iilniau will master tho "art of omis- 
sion," ho will, no doubt, do excellent work. " A Maori Maid " 
is the story of the illegimate daughtx^r of a Now Zcalander and a 
Maori woman, who, though she passed much of her youth, 
deserte<l by her father, as a common drudge amid the most sordid 
Maori surroundings, ends by liccoming a groat London la<ly, of 
high title ami station, "luigoodus she is ox(piisitoly iK-autiful." 
This does not sounil convincing, but it is so easy to criticiKo 
certain defects in tho Itook that one is in danger of giving a 
wrong impression of it, for it is <piitc a readable, vivacious, 
interesting story, despite its improliabilities. The worst part of it 
is the terseness of stylo affected by the author, which sometimes 
loads him into mysterious utterances such as, " For tho purposes 
of mere flirtation, she reslizetl that there were moti. John 
Anderson was one of tho latter," or, " I'ractically nothing was 

July ir., 181)8.] 


<lone, and whnt was, biidly enough." And Mr. Voge! it«.ui„n i., 
beliovo that wiiulnm can only find utterance in dtsjoiiitMl 
aontnncoa, that it httcona-R morn imprt-iiAivo when "didpliiyo^' '" 
to U8(> II printor's tiTm, in i<in<;lo puriij^rnpha. An thnn :  

H« wn« wrak ; litt w»» a morel coward. Hi* pniiiubment WH of Uia 
own iiiiikiuK onil well lU'wrvvd . 


I'oHiiibly •uch u man waa a social blackguard, with ju*t aulBcii'Ot 
eoniiui>'iic-v to make bliii iniaerablt and not rnouKh to make him virtuou». 



Mairiiigu in growing no cUatio nowadayn ; auob a conreoiencv, 
in fact. 

It even doea not neceaaarily imply owuemhip. 

Certainly not. Only the coat of it. 
We hope he will not cultivate furthor the manner of the 
villivfio wisoivore. It is curious that •' An Knyptian C.xpiotte," 
which in the search for the wonilorful pies furthest atiold, 
takin;^ the reailer to nn early dynasty of Kj^fj'pt on<l to 
the region of the su|ierniitural, should bo the i>ne failure 
in our series of E.xotic Heroines Mr. Holland, who wrote 
a pretty sketch of Jn)ianoMo lifo ami an intorostiuK little 
talo about a novolist, has failml to niako this story of hypnotism 
oithor iiitorosting or convincin;;. Indued, porliapa his chief fault 
is in the use of the word hypnotism, which chills imagination 
just ns tho more words '• stSanoe " and " medium " elfoctually 
«;hojk all dosiro to procoetl in a romancu. He has, in fact, per- 
formed the feat, strange though not unconunon, of using the most 
■extraordinary tlioories to produce an etfect absolutely ctnumon- 
placo ; and, as tho works of professed occultists inspire no 
feeling but twlium, so the author of " An Egyptian Ooipiette " 
■would almost convince us that hyimotised of an early 
jH>ri(«l are amongst the common objects of the desert. 

Htncrican better. 


No thornier theme could well Iw suggested than one I was 
invited to consider, the other daj-, by an Englishman who wished 
to know how far American politicians were scholars, and how far 
American authors took part in {mlitics. In my mind I lirat 
revolted from tho inquiry, and then I cast about, in the fascina- 
tion it began to have for me, to see how I might liandio it and 
prick myself least. In a sort which it would take too long to 
set forth, politics are very intimate matters with us, and if one 
were to deal (piito frankly with the politics of a contemjxirary 
author, one might accuse oneself of an unwarrantable jier- 
sonality. So, in what I shall have to say here in answer to 
the <iuestion asked nie, I shall seek above all things not to be 
quite frank. 


My luicandour need not be so jealously guarded in sjieaking 
of authors no longer living. Not to go too far back among these, 
it is perfectly safe to say that when the slavery ipiostion Itegnn 
to divide all kinds of men among us, Lowell, Longfellow, 
Whittier, Curtis, Emerson, and Bryant more or less promptly 
and ojienly took sides against slavery. Holmes was very much 
later in doing so, but he made up for his long delay by his linal 
strenuousness ; as for Hawthorne, ho was perhajts too osucntially 
a spectator of life to be classed with either {jarty, though his 
associations, if not his sympathies, were with the Northern men 
who had Southern principles until the civil war came. 

After tho war, when our jwlitical questions ceased to be 
moral and emotional and became economic and sociological, 
literary men found their standing with greater difficulty. They 
remained mostly Republicans, b«'cause the Kepubl loans were the 
anti-slavery party, and were still waging wor against slavery in 
their nerves, lint in the great schism which lieorge William 
Curtis led oH' against Blaine in 1884. he carried fully half of oiu- 
literary men with him to tho Democratic side. Even yet it 

were in every way snioni; tits b< 


vrrr l»rff>ly Um 

wia« than emoiioual. In fact, 
longer be ao, the |>olitica of 
Amerieaua are ao. Nutbuig olio woiil 

during the liuit ten or llftawn yc«ni u 

licana and renmintKi Demo<Tat« u|xiu no tn: 

otlico, which could froi-tically concern oi 

thousands out of every million of vutera. i 

oa a virtue, and dl ' 

inuiviam next in m 

mo why then .\i> 

l>oliticji, aa tlioy >. 

replying that the queatioii 

was, however emotional, uii 

literary quoatiiina. I should have the more dr 

might bo retorted that literary men were to<- 

politics wlien they did not deal with moral iaauee. 

I o 







Such a retort . -o, 

and might even I' '>ur 

custom to !»• tendei » > • is 

right, or might not be ^Ve 

are apt to call such a one oii'. of his name ami i- ra 

for opinions he haa never held. This may be a i- ' on 

than either given why authors do not take part in politics with 
us. Ttiey are a thin-skinnod race, faatidioua oftrn, ■•"■ ■■"nya 
averse to hard knocks ; they are rather modest too. ist 

their fitness to lead, when they have quite a limi fann ai tneir 
convictions. They hesitate to urge these in the face of {irartieal 
politicians, who have a 
atTairs of State not sui i 
dealing with econ^ 

e in their ability to aottle all 
ti bv that of bu/iinesa man in 

:nithor« do not ^ into pnlittca 





I think it is u 
at least for the sake of lh< 
really thoy do not. Our {«•. 
very picture.<i<|UO ; yet, so far, our hction ' 
more decideilly than it haa shunned our ^■.. . 
not nictures<|Ue or apparently anything but a 
tion of the sort of drama that goea on abmau m 
name. In nearly the degree that our aiithnr* ha' 
our politics « ..... 

only too null : 

to understand the luciu nuichmciy, tliu »iuipli'«l uioiiv«.«, 
IMjlitical life. 


niere ore exceptions, of course, and if my promi" of ".ti- 
cence did not withhold me I might name some ^t «. 

Privately and iinprofes«ionally, I think our authors u.*'- •>.- <ivid 
an intei-cst in public atl'airs aa any otiier class of our citiacna, 
ami I should be sorry to think tliat they took 
interest. Now and then, but only very rai 
speaks out, and usually on ' ' 
he is sjmred none of thn ]• 
difference of opinion ; ; 

.'^uch things are no; 
man iit>e<{ shrink from, but i 
trying to explain, and in n 
certain attitude in our litvrury men. No one likea to have 
stones, not to say mud, thrown at him, though they are not 
meant to hurt him badly and may be partly thrown in joke. Bui 
it is pretty certain that if a man not in politics t«kea tbem 
seriously, he will have more or less mud. not to say atone*, 
thrown at him. H ' " '• ■«- 

repre.seiit them, w ; ns 

with heart and coiiMionce, liu could not y, 

unless he were aiititoriMd to do ao by a< 'U 




I am 
for a 



[July 16. 1898. 

to tlieiii. I do not mean that then l>o would ei<««p«> : but in tliis 
t-ountry. whore there were omt- supposed to he no dnsjes, jwopio 
M» more «trirtl.v chuwifiwl thnn in any othi<r. Husitioss to the 
husiiieM man, law to tlic lawjer. mediiine to the physi<iHn, 
politic* to the politician, and letters to the literary mi«n ; that 
IS the nde. One is not oxjiected to transcenil his function, and 
i-omnionlr one does not. We keep each to his last, at* if there 
• human interests, civic interests, which had a hipher 
.11 the last ujwn our thinkinj; and ftHjling. The tendency 
.IS .u.wn upon us severally and c«lIo<-tively tliroujrh the lonp 
1» rsft.'Mce of our prosperity : if public affairs wore poinR ill, 
private affairs were poing so well that wo did not mind the 
others ; and we Americans are, I think, meridional in our 
improvidence. We are »o essentially of to-<lay that we behave 
as if to-morrow no more concenie«l us than yesterday. We have 
taught oiuTtelvee to believe that it will all come out right in the 
einl so lonp that wo Iwve come to act upt>n our belief ; we are 
optimistic fatidists. 


The turn which our politics have taken towards economics, 
if I may so phrase the rise of the questions of labour and capital, 
haa not largely attracte<l literary men. It is doubtful whether 
EdwanI IVtllaniy himself, whose fancy of l>ettor c<)n<litionR has 
heoome the abiding faith of vast ntuiil)er8 of Americans, snp- 
poae<I tliat he was entering the field of practi«il politics, or 
dieemt of influencing elections by his hoi>e8 of economic etpiality. 
But ho virtimlly founde<l the Populist l>arty, which, as the vital 
principle of the Demo<Tatic party, came so near electing its 
candi<lat« for the Presidency two years ago : and he is t4. lie named 
first among our authors who have dealt with politics on their 
more human side since the days of the old anti-slavery agitation. 
Without too great disreganl of the reticence concerning the living 
which I promise*! myself, I may mention Dr. Edward Everett 
Hale and Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson as prominent 
authors who encouragwl the Nationalist movement eventuating 
in Populism, though they were never Populists. It may be inter- 
eatinp to note that Dr. Hale and Colonel Higginson, who later 
came together in their sociological sympatliies, were divided by 
the schism of 1884, when the first remained with the Republicans 
and the last went off to the Democrats. More remotely, Colonel 
Higginson was anti-slavery almost to the point of Abolitionism, 
and he le<l a negro regiment in the war. Dr. Hale was of those who 
were less radic-.illy op|K>se<1 to slavery before the war, but hardly 
so after it came. Xince the war a sort of rellnence of the old 
anti-slavery |)olitics carriwl from his moorings in Southern tra- 
dition Mr. George W. Cable, who, against the white sentiment 
of his section, sideil with the former slaves, and would, if the in- 
dignant renunciation of his follow-Southerncrs couhl avail, have 
coiia«<]uently («ased to be the first of Southern authors, though 
he would still have continue*! the author of at least one of the 
greatest American novels. 

If I must burn my ships Itehind me in alleging these modern 
instances, as I seem really to be doing, I may mention Mr. 
R. W. (jilder. the |>oet, as an author who has taken i)art in the 
(Nititica nf municipal nrforin. This reform in New York lias 
enlisted »e%-eral yoimger talents who would la) iierhaps wholly 
literary in leas disgraceful nnmicipai conditions than ours. The 
moat vigorous of these is Mr. •). J. Chapman, whose essays on 
literary and political (juestions cannot fail of making him felt 
as a man of a kind not altogether novel with us, but not common, 
either. Mr. Handin Garland has lieen known from the first as a 
zealotu (teorge man, or single-taxer. Mr. Theodore Iloosevelt 
aiMl Mr. Henry Caliot Lo<!ge are Republican politicians, as well 
as ' men. Mr. Joel Ohaiullur Harris, when 

not litis, writes |H,litical articles in a loading 

Houtiient jourual. 

\ . 

I am n<H stirM whether 1 have made out a can*- for our 

•otbon ' '» : iM^rhapa I have not done so badly ; Imt 

I have • ' ""i to Im> exhaustive ; the exhaustion is 

ao apt to extend from the subject to the reader, and I wish to 

leave him in a condition to judge for himself whether Amorican 
lit<«rary men take part in .\merican ]>oliticH or not. 1 think tlioy 
U-nr their shaiv, in the quieter sort of way which we hoiie ^it 
may Im- too fondly) is the American way. They are none of 
them joliticians in the Latin 8i>rt. Fow, if any, of our states- 
men have come forward with small volumes of verse in their 
hands as they do in Sjwin ; none of our poets or historians have 
lieen chosen Presidents of the Republic as has liapjiened to tlioir 
French confrirrji ; no great novelist of ours has lH»on exiled as 
A'ictor Hugo was. or atrociously mishandltHl as Zola has l)oen, 
though 1 have no doubt that if, for instance, one said the Spanish 
war was wTong ho would be pretty generally eouKjntf. They have 
none of them renciicd the heights of political jxnver, ii« several 
English authors have done ; but they have often Imiou Ambas- 
Biulors, Ministers, ami Consuls, and though they may not often 
have lieon apjiointed for jiolitical reasons, at least the dis- 
tinguishe*! gentleman who now represents us in England hivs 
been intoro8te<l in jiolitics' most of his life, ond they never have 
l)een removed for any other reason. I fancy they discharge their 
duties in voting rather faithfully, though they do not often take 
part iu caucuses or conventions. 

As for the other half of the i|ue8tion— How far American 
[xditicians are scholars— one's first impulse would l)e t" say that 
thev never were so. But I have always had an heretical Imlief 
that there hcit snakes in Iceland ; and it may be some such dis- 
position to <|iiestioii authority that keeps me from yielding to 
this impulse. The law of demand and supply alone ought to 
have settled the question in favour of the presence of the scholar 
in our politics, there has lieen such a cry for him among us for 
almost a generation past. Perhaps the response has not l)een 
very direct, but I imagine that our politicians have never been 
quite so destitute of scholarship as they would sometimes make 
appear. I do not think so many of them now write a good style, 
or speak a gooii style, as the politicians of forty, or fifty, or 
sixty years ago ; but this may tie merely l>art of the impression 
of the general worsening of things familiar after middle life to 
every one's experience from the beginning of recorde«l time. If 
something not so literary is meant by scholarship, if a study of 
finance, of economics, of international affairs is in question, it 
seems to go on rather more to their own satisfaction than that of 
their critics. But without lieing always very proud of the 
result, and without professing to know the facts very profoundly, 
one may still suspect that under an outside by no means 
academic there is a process of thinking in our statesmen which 
is not so loose, not so unscientific, and not even so unscholarly 
as it might !« supposed. It is not the effect of specific training. 
and yet it is the effect of training. I do not find that the 
matters dealt with are anywhere in the world entrusted to 
experts ; and in this sense scholarship has not lieon called to the- 
aid of our legislation or administration ; but still 1 should not 
like to say that none of our politicians were scholars. That 
would lie offensive, and it might not l>e true. In fact, I can 
think of several whom I should lie tiuiiptecl to cidl scholars if I 
were not just here recalled to a sense of my purpose not to deal 
quite frankly with this inquiry. 


(Copyright, 18S»8, in the United States of America, by Harjier 
and Brothers. ) 

jfovcion Xcttcvs. 



One of tin- most eminent among contemporary French 
philosophers, M. FouilWe, has thought this a fitting hour to 
study the French soul and the French mind, to recall what the 
elements are that conqioso the French nation, what hor native 
aptitudes are. what here<litary qualities France should jealously 
prewrve anil what invetj'rate defects she has to fight against, ami 
to tell the country how right it is to feel confident as to the 

July k;, 1898.] 



future, hnt aliio whnt formidfthle dangon nrn loominK in t''^' 

M. Fiiuilli'o'H ori^'iiiality uoiiNiHtH in lii* ln'ing n i i ' 
nmt a sociolo^iBt an wull an ii iin-tapliyiiicinn. Hc< h»'' 
i|nito II hvhU'iu of till" iiiiivurNK with Iiih theory of iilreji-/<,, 
lead it, Hiiil hail tliuB hrnu^^ht imck tn iilcalimii, liut a i 
iditalisin, thu innU'rialistio iiii'ohaniani that {xmitiviiiiii Iwl U>, 
and ho has sought at thn Naiiin tiino, in tho sanio diruction, for a 
riiconciliatioh Ixjtwrcti lilmrty and (hitorminimn. Mornovor, hiii 
philosophy ix not mere sword-foiiciii);, a pure tranitcondontnl 
pxHitry, that hiiH nothing to do witli life. M. FoiiilhSe'ii kh/a Ib, 
on the contrary, ever fixed on thu HooinI connoqui'iicoii, on the 
conorote rualimtion of idi*aH. His Hystem of philosophy in 
groundc<l on pcyc'holo^ry, and iiinis at social jiro<^o»». We always 
tind in liini liotli thx nioraliKt and tho [M'dago^iie, whether he 
»tudie8 " tho itU'a of right in Franco, Kngland, and Oeniiany " 
or " Social Scionco " or " tho Systems of Kthics " or " Teaching, 
from a National I'oint of View " or " the Connexion liotwoen 
Constitution and Character." Thin thinker in something of an 
apo.tlo who plans and writes his books in an enchanting rdroat 
in the mountains, ovorhaii;;ing that peerless l>cnd of the Me<li- 
terranean coast, botwoon Mentone and Vintiniillo. 

"The Psychology of tho French People " (Alcan, iJditeur), 
which M. Fouilleo has just publi.slicd, and which is to bo followed 
by a second volume, *' Fnince, from a Moral Point of View," is 
abovo all a .sincoro, well-meant hook, written to warn the French 
against discouragement, but at the same time to do away with 
their delusions and prejudices, encouraging them to put into 
practice the SixTiitic precept, " Know thyself," a necessary 
condition for j)rogrpss of any kind with nations hh ubII as 

M. Fouilli^' is(iuitealivo to the difficulties of his ta.^K. A [Hoplo 
is not a well-dolinod being livinganorganicanimal lifeor aiK>rfectly 
similar moral life. It is made up of inilividuals of very different 
nundiers, very diverse origins, ami when wo see how ditrerent 
these individuals are from ono another, wo understand how hard 
it is to pronounce a collective judgment on the common features 
of tho whole nation. And yet there are common features. .Just as 
wo easily and often know a Frenchman from an Englishman or a 
German by his mere look, there are also distinctive intellectual 
and moral traits to be found, though, (xirhaps, not in so marked a 
degree, among the greater number of the individuals in a nation, 
and they are clearly numifosted in their sp«!Och, acts, and 

But whence do those common features that make up tho psy- 
chology of a i>oople spring from? F'rom its physical constitution? 
from hereditary habits bred by the country to which it l)elongs, 
by history, by o<lucation ? In his introduction, M. Fouilloe bos 
examined this very delicate matter of the " factors of national 
character," and hos boon luiablo to give it a satisfactory answer. 
We must boar in mind, indeed, that not only, side by side with 
general iiiHuences, individual factors do exist, the action of indi- 
viduals that defies any calculation and any law, but that, even 
in tho a-fion of general causes, there are such very complex 
elements that it becomes materially impossible to measure, count, 
or weigh them. M. Fouilloe has very souniUy and wittily criti- 
cized tho prejudice that connects tho qualities and defects of the 
French with a double ipiostion of race : ho is not ono of those 
who talk of •' Latin " races, " Gallic " races, " French " races ; 
still loss can he be ranked among those whose political motto is 
" Franco for the French .' "' and who would drive all foreigners 
from tho French soil, forgetting that they owe to them the fact 
that French population is still on the increase. He has no trouble 
to prove that tho French have ever l)een forme<I of the most 
hotorogenoous olements, from the settling in Franco of tho fair 
race and dark race that form the groundwork of the jV)pulation. 
Gauls, Iberians, Ligurians, Romans, Franks, Normans, and an 
incessant afflux of foreigners from every country in the world have 
mingled on the French soil. Who knows but that the French may 
owe to this mixture the variety and happy luilance of their apti- 
tudes, as also the rapidity with which they assimilate foreign 
elements and fashion tliem to their own imoge ? A pure race is 

n oreivin oi (>i 
tins am uiiih 
the Mhit. 

tUllitH, I*. 


ixlugtcsl (iMlucbon Iw Iw drawn 

M. Kouilleo haa oren Uwn so ill wWiaetl, aftar lta« 

very rati !•> -ticiiiwl tlie Uie«>ry of r»c», ao ( ' !-. i.-r 

much ill to the theoriiM, nowaday*  '•( Um 1 I'lto-Slars " ' • 

ami to lie men with broad %V 

hairwl men u ' ' ' « 

superior, by t .u. 

'11* ttulfv*<tivf»lt*, lb* 

The iidluenc««s of climate, ^' toriflal, 

social, and economic circumstai.i. „ _,. .-. .. v« and 

much easier discussed than thoso of racti ; ai. ^, aTVii 

here, nuist difficult to b< " *- - ' - • (T.-,.-t 

connexion existing liet 

and their iwy " ' ■•, 

tem|H'rate, wi >t 

excess of cold iioi huat, and ii> in ' -v land 

frontiers with Germany, Italy. •« Ma 

frontiers with the Channel, t »neas. 

She is thus in a matchlosa nr .cctual, 

and social intercourse— a sort of fiariotr of nations, a sort of 
stage where all iileas come to seek an audianoe, then isaoe 
forth to she<1 their ra<liance throughout the worUI in a more 
luminous and simple form. We ntay therefore concliMie that tJi* 
French mind, also, is a well-balanced mind, temporat«, avoiding 
extremes, a friend to n  ,  v ,.j, 

character is prc-eminen'. '>o 

variable, changeable, and hglil,  h 

very diverse elements ; that the t ' .e 

ease with which they understand he 

(latteries which the loveliness of  _ -f 

their manners cause to l>v hea[ie<l up ii|>on them. ly 

l>elieve themselves tho centre of tho univer*" !-..■: r» 

are attractetl to their home far more str< h 

themstdves feel attracted towards foreign .•■nnu..-:. in- is 
indeed quite true ; but how vague and general all th(«« remarks 
are when confr<uito<I with so complex a ' ' 'in 

character or the mind of a |>t>ople ! When  tf 

features the character of one man alone c<i ly 

causes forniwl it, we ask ournelvf». T^ >r 

the causes that comi>o90 the .  f 

Sjiecial causes may so thorougl.  U 

education. Now Uome, the Koinan Ihureh, Italy of tlie I 

sunco, the Heform, the Jesuits have 

different way, been the preceptors of 

how completely the French Pr. *  * 

enttmble, differ from the Cath< 

and their character it most ho S' 

of educati<ui plays a great part 

On the other hand, wb' 

mutilated in 1871. has 1 

or even under the Hest' 

years of conquests, in si 

witnesseil the growth of thai moral dl«<n«c " i 

France ; if she has adopte*! in the Host a purely 

line — she who was once so ready to he ftre<l up by a- 

cause ; if, in the Dri'yfus affair, t^-- •■■ -•  -■ r,,. 

showed itself indifferent to tlie 

sively pr«>occupie«l with blindly 

what is all this to ho ascribe<I to 

all in turn, aiut ... -1 

France : and when wo see 

•■• . considoreal in their 

" turn of their mind 

this clement 

'f a people. 


■n " in 



wrought in tho Fr. 
us a<ld to this tb< 
falsehoods, systematic 
jH-rverting of ix>i8ons, i' 
of the French people. 

■1 by Uie ' war .' Let 

.' of the I ita imiulta, 

' meet 
• ■^■epitor 




[July 16, 1898. 


Pwhaps iho bcot article in the ComhiU ia on the " Anti- 
Jecobin "- t" il ••Anti-.Ioi-obin " — one of the few volumos 

of humorous I'll lia.1 r<>tuino<J its wit for iiinro than tlin-o 

^enarmt . ' t<>-<liiy as it wusuhen its lost nunilwr 

■IHi— 1 1 'I years a^o. Tliern &ru two circuni- 

•tance* »ii • -,. witli our unjoymunt of tlieso 

delightful I it they were writtun " with a 

norjMiee." 1 •mvo a iiuri««so, and wo ore cjuito 

familiar vnou^jh with -I i at tlm |>ri'»ent <lay to enjoy a 

littl.' " u\in_'  ..f ..i.lii,:il iir jKietical utt<<rHUce8. 

Tl: iig of C'linninj; ami his 

co: 1^ wliich tlu'V imitated ; 

an<l ^joy the •' newly knii<-f;rinder " niay )ier)iai>s 

for;.. ■. ~ ; ufortunato ex|ierim>-nt in Sapphic metro. Mr. 

W. Ji. l>utti«.-l>l, the writer of tliis article, supplies in a good 
manv in«t«n<-«-i« th" nt-oeasary ilhistrationg. The same ma^zine 
h«- ! • 1 study of Cyrano do IJerfjorac, tlio writer of 

*' ■.'. ." whom M. Kostiind's phiy has brought 

tti • ITS in Pari-s and London. 

of tlio l.tiih/s lifalm has a trans- 
lati"ij iiKiii \.l.^■ ii>>»nM III i'> .-il Kdwin Arnohl. The first verse 
•of the original is as follows : — 

Hnlialia mai mna in u 

Me be aUe hiki mai ana 
.\ biki iiiai oe alu ilio au 
Hoi pono ibo nei puuwmi. 
The very deliciuesconce of language, one would say, and yet Sir 
Kdwin Amola has contrive<l to extract from tiiese melting 
rowels : — 

Ever ;•  ...... ,|_ 

K MIT blooj and brain 

Like _ „ I fold you 

<'low aDii lasi. no ivapite comes to pain. 

Thp iiunil.or liiK a ili-ntiful supply of stories and articles by 
Fr:i !i of Roumania, " Rita," and others, 

an' I iistratcd. 

• have solved the problem of how to 
nui. _ ..ino at once useful to the exjiert and 

of int<>re!it to a curious but less speiializejl reader. " Pot 
Cranes and their Ailju-xtment," by Mr. Roniillv Allen : " Notes 
on Benin ..\rt." by Mr. H. Ling Roth ; " Samplers," by P'lorence 
Peacock, nnd " Tallies used by Savages," by Mr. Richard Quick, 
are four ■. interesting and informing articles. Theimper 

on '■ ta; ft prim interest, for the illustrations sliow 

de<  llh suggestive notches on the handles. It 

wo: ' know wlictlier there is any instance of 

tal •' till at tlio present day. In France the 

vill '.n his rounds a bundle of notched 

stii ..... loaf supplied— but in Kngland the 

Kx !a to have been the last to use this ancient 

nj" _. 

 ir of " A .loumalist's Recollections " in the AVic 
Oi.; .. . .'■ t"n« :i ■•<mmI story of the famous Dovunshiro 
iparson, " .lack " 

II. K.,. r-.,M>-.1 * «• of a dying pariabittner. and h4>gan : — 

awm dvio' 

had a Tail' look in ! 

I anybody, bast the'? " 
• • N»» . 

"Kobtied anybody?" 
• Saw." 

" Allu* (aid the' titbr ? ' 
•' T«n *' 

. Idled wi' any other man'a wive? " 

• 1,. .1... ,1 t t.. v,..|l ! " 

M: convictions on the subject «>f 

1. A lott4!r of his, ap{M-aring in the Unityrtilii 
.irs the pleasing title, " The Canonization of the 
Ogre," llm ogre, it seems, iving the ordinary consumer of beef 
and mutt'.n Mr Salt t)i)tik« tVmt it is wicked ami cruel to kill 
animals ' ' . wonders whether 

he ia au . tarians, and that 

•"It ry hare been per- 


ijiiirs of a promising 

•to " Uy Onl.r of the 

»■' i.iventurcsof Kranv'"" " 

during tlu- Terror. Miss 

1 - II ---.i.)-I.d>nd," and Mr. Stephen 

Uonaal, aiitod by Mr. Juneph Fennell't drawings, helps us to 

realize the imposing ceremonies of " Holy Week in Seville." 
Perhaps the occlesiatitici who manage the services have a little 
overstuppiKl the line between the purely dramatic uiid the 
theatrical : — 

A cw now falU U|H)n our ears, and the di..' i leii 

spring tl r atid rlasp one anothrr as though in 'iiir. 

hrom tht .. -: :„:ic conies a sound as of a tbuudt>rboU, .^ .......Aiing 

through the forest of marble pillars and great granite archoa, and then 
ensues a great and speaking silence. 


-♦ — 



Sir,— " K. C. S." first ri<liciiles Mr. Gladstone's art of com- 
pression, and then attacks Mr. Gladstone's verso in general and 
his Latin in particular. To say that Mr. Gladstone " fails, and 
fails badly," is surely unreasonable. When an expert of his craft 
conscientiously jierforms a self-appointed Ideal which " the 
Imitative Herd " dare not attempt, he cannot be " placed " 
even by scholars, as there is for him neither peer nor proceflont. 
When, in the gospel of Scott (but not of Lane-Poole) Richard 
and Saludin met, the strength of the Lion Heart could not be 
comiMiretl with the dexterity of Saladin. It is the dexterity of 
Gladstone as a tninslator that is my contention : and he holds his 
own on the lines set down by Literaturr on March' .Itli, that a 
translator " should not only know thoroughly the language from 
which he is translating, but should be a skilled writer of 
English." Knowledge of the Latin language (except technical 
words referring to customs or antiquities) cannot grow in 
quantity, as it is like the brain, hemmed in by solid walls— by 
the bony curtain of the past. It is probable, then, that classical 
education has been decadent this hundred years, .lacob Hryant 
retorte<l to Gilford, who said that Dr. .lohnson had admitted but 
little knowledge of Greek, " Yes, young man, but how shall wo 
know what .Johnson would have called little Greek ? " In the 
matter of his Latin, (iladstone is to-day possibly the best guide 
even where the " opinion of scholars " is dead against him, as it 
%va8 against Columbus and Galileo on more inomoi-ablo occasions. 

(.\) " R. C. S." considers that, in order to socuro com- 
pression, Gladstone leaves out what is most important to include. 
" In nothing Horace is more choice than in his epithets. Yet in 
homa frvuje . . , avuiaque porca we are put oH' with 'grain and 
swine.' " Surely there is nothing choice in telling us that pigs 
are gree<ly, or "most important" in the self-evident fact that 
the fruits to l)e 8acrifice<l should be thin ye<ir'»! 7/<»c/i<i and 
arida would probably have l)een considered connnonplace and 
unneces.iary epithets by any Roman scholar. It is, I think. Sir 
Theodore Martin who tells us that Horace's beauty of expi-ession 
often hides jioverty of ideas, which makes him more untranslat- 
able, and the above is a case in point. 

Facili scptrifirt is rendered " coyly," which " R.C.S." declares 
quite misses the point. If all the Knglish language be conned 
it seems doubtful if a better word than "coyly" coulil ere 
be found to give the force of "cruel only to Iw kind.'" 
In the 17th century (see Murray's Diet.) " coyly " had some- 
times the sense of disdain and arrogance, and either gentle 
" arrogance " or " cruelty '' is adequaUdy rendero<l by " coyly," 
which wonl is a complete' oxymoron in itself. Nitrium srrwji 
ilucm is rendered by Martin in another ode " blutl'ost sea- 
captains," which is excellent, but quite as free a rendering 
as Gladstone's. 

" Void " is an exact rendering of menu*, and quite as goo<1 
and more biblical Knglish than, for example, (Goldsmith's 

" vacant mind." 

Tlien^ tbou sbalt sjicnd 
Thy willing t4-ardru|M, to luinent, 
O'lT my wartn asb, tby bar*l and friend. 

Calfntem fnrillam is here literally, if unusually, rendered, 
and when Dean Hole, like a good ganloiier, pui-sues the art of 
fumigation and " destroys a wo-d," he will (irobalily, if indoors, 
use the ash-tray for funeral urn or cinerarium. 

July iG, 1898.] 



(!}) Ab nti oxamplo of ohmsurity " It. C. S." ijuoU>«— 

Or whi'r<> off MiM>ri»h romiU, tlw- «••« 1 

Apiilian 8yrtc« rviT wH'tliM ? 

. iH n iinximiil, ami in corroctwl in my oiiti'— '"'•i> •'■ 
Of ftliitt SyrtM rver mx'thM r 
Tlio othor (ixampin nIiown OliidHtono lirilliant ami lullior lli|i|iaiit, 
imiuud I'von <|imiiitly Hlnnpy, litil corUinly Horatiim I" the 
fiiigor-tiiMi : — I 

Uiic rromrtliiii", tti tlii'y nay. 

Kilning tliin mill timt IN-Kan ; 
Mixiid it lip witli piiiiiiil nUy, 

Ijim'ii mi,{lit witli HpliM'n nf man. 

Jt riifow aliko to " this anil tliat " ami " Lion's might," Ac. 
As for " Iwild anil commonplaco linos " ami " bathos," such can , 
lio iletaolioil from any poet, ami ovon horo ho has probably a loss 
porciintiiRo of tho first than Wonlswortli in tho " Kxcursion," or 
Hyron of tlio socmiil in " Don .rnim," ami with far more excuse, 
at any rato, as regarils Worilsworth. 

As ri'^arils Frioml Iccins tho comic element is evidently 
iiit<«ntioiiiil, iiml why should not (lliidstonn have his little jolce, 
kill two liirils at onco, and caiisi! tho proliablo descendants of the 
Quoun of Shoba to blood aliko in purse and jMirson ? 

Ah for tho Qninta parte kiss, Gladstone is in good comjiany 
in preferring the fifth part to qnintossenoe— i.« , tho extra and 
special part— what Bmithorno woidil call " a soulful kiss." A 
pearl-diver may not throw away the molluso or its shell, but ho 
certainly ignore-s them for the third piirt— the pearl. 

" K. 0. S." attacks (.iladstono a.s a scholar, and cites bis 
rendering of " fortuitus cim/x's " as utterly incorrect. This view- 
is certainly too strong, insomuch as Horace never uses crfjif.i 
olsowhero except as rini.t (-u'.");)!-*— tho live turf. But I am only 
an admirer of (ilud-stono in tho same way (mari'mo I'n/cmW/o) as 
Tennyson, who " lovod tho man but hate<l his politics " ; and 
it is here probable that the statesman was beguiled into making 
tho Romans gowl Liberals at the expense of the Latin of 
tho scholar. 

Seiinea,iUf nudum solrrrr Gratiir. " R. C. S." would make 
his poet as jwnderous in thoucht as he was in i>erson. Aft^ir 
de<licating tho Ode to his Cask, which is brought down for the 
occasion, Horace invokes Uacchus, Venus in a good temper, and 
tho Graces. Now, with Venus in a good temper, why should 
this Triple Alliance remain bound toge'her like the p.^mperud 
jailos of Asia in " Tambnrlaine " ? The knot was probably a com- 
plicated one, and the Graces would lio slow at loosening it (nc'jiif.t 
solvere) ; but to suggest that the Graces encircleil Horace and 
tho cask like stage-childron round a maypole is a tax upon 

In conclusion, can " R. 0. S." show any reason why these 
two Verses of the well-known Ode 3 of Book III. bo not quoted 
as (1) excellent translation, (2) true verse, and now (3) a worthy 
panegyric on tho G. O. M. himself? — 

Tlu' just rnao, in his piirposK strong. 
No ninililing trowil can liind to wrong. 
Tlie forncfiil tyrant 'a hriiw anil word, 
Kude AustiT, Bckli" ,\ilri«'s loiil. 
His flrni-si't spirit cunnnt move. 
Nor the (treat hunil of thiinderiug JoTe. 
On him all fearli-ss would be hurled 
The ruins of a crumbling world. 

H. F. H. (Sheffield). 
Juno 211. 


Sir, — The following jmssago from Thomas Nashe's " Anato- 
mic of Absurditie " vir)8!>) may iH>rhai>s seem to your readers to 
have some bearing on tho question of the '* Sterility of tho 
Universities," and will porhajis soothe tho wounded feelings of 
.some of those to whom your article may have given pain : — " It 
fareth nowe a daies with unlearno<t Idiots as it doth she AsseS, 
who bring foorth all their life long : even so these brainless 
Buzzards are every quarter bigge wyth one pamphlet or other. 
But as an Egge that is full, beeing put into water, sinkoth to the 

boUom, whi 
that are m<>' 

u( all ku<>alatl|{u 

'iin faitiiiully, 

4, Smith-iquara, Wij«tmiii*l«r, 8.W, 



Tlie next numbi-r of Lilrrtfiirr  
an exiMiriment in rhymed, i 
"Among my Books" will Iw by tho 1: 
MllUer. Tho isaue will alio contain Umi '. 
" Hatteraa," by Mr. A. K. W. Ilaaon. 

^^n>t. Mas 

l,.>( i.iirt i,( 

Mr. Leonard Charlae Van NoppMi, ft yonn« Amariosn. ba* 

recently cn ' *' f... i. rpjo. 

" Lucifer." *»• 

inspire'! Milton to wiiU; " I'.i 
translate<l into Knglish by M: 
Mr. Van Noppen's work will 

version. Tlio translation has 1 

several of tho lending I'nivcrsitiea of Holland, wbera Mr. Vaa 
Nop|)en studied for two years. 

Messrs. Little. Brown, and Co., of Baatoo, hara purrhaaed 
the publishing btisinoss of the well-known hou»« of Roberta 
Brothers, which in its long and honotir-'-i- "-■■•-• ■•■■••'■ 
largely to the fast-vanishing literary prest 
Little, Brown, and Co. ; ' ' ' 
their standard is exceptimi 

Ix-en the discoverers of L'.i; tain .\. 1. -Mahttii, ami t!i 
includes the niitliorlx—l trnm'-ttion of " Quo Vadii " sncl 





ir list 


by Francis I' 
Hamerton, -y 

ion, George Mcrwlith, P. G. 

Lord Ronald Gower is at present »ii(n»^ upon a Hfn nf Sir 
Thomas Lawrence, which bills f»ir to In- 
resting work : it is to contain m»n\ r^ 
by Sir Thomas which have not i>rovi 
number being t4«ken from jirivato i 
mission of her Majesty the Queen, 
portraits in the Wuterlno Chamber 
been reproducucl hithert". Messrs. ' 
publish the work 
thorefor»» !,'>rd i 
which 1 
This s. 

which elat)<)rat».« ori_ 
shall no doubt hear <i< 

I Co., 

II Iin>e Iti t 

who are to 

ing )iro|au«l ; wa 

Mr. Coventry Patmt! . •• "Principle in A- 

" Religio Poetic " have be«>n rvissued in two neat volume* 
by Messrs. George Boll and Sons, allowed himself libtnliM which 
he denied to others. He is inclined to scoff at Kmerson, who 
wrote : — 

I wish to say what I feel ami think to-day, with thv pntito that 


licence. In his 

■r <m 

t art 


i or 


to-morrow, perha)w, I ahall <■■ 
Yet Mr. Patmoro uS4h1 
" Em. 
of all - 

efToi^t to »n all 
onler," and the • 
poetry of .■Eschylus. 
in the paper on " t 
writes : — 

<i .v...,wM,re is the "'.i«' .-•"-"rful of ; We rtail h;- . , 

ti 'lOut rantr;v ryentmrj stain of saeUarholy, hovvrvr 

!!;.;:_.  ht»y may h.'»^ Tomiw. 

The passage contradicts the doctrine of the other Msay. The 
highest art is anamotional, and knows no more of cbosrfnlnesa 



[July IG, 1898. 

thftn of moUncholy, »inc«' it K>lonj!:s t>i n nphore which traniuicntls 
all »uch feelings. One niny riMwl " Hamlvt " witlunit any 
foeling of sadness. Indee<), one coiilil not propose a worse 
literary test than the emotional. A few brief linen in a newa- 
paper, roconling the bare fact of a man's death, will plunge n 
whole family into an a>;ony of eriof and team, Imt the obituary 
columns are not Iit4>ntture. For the '• reason why " we must j;o 
back to our old Aristotelian definition of urt -that it deals not 
with particulars, but with iinivorsals -and the emotion of sorrow 
is rather ap|>roprinte to priviite or " j>articulnr " };riof than to 
that ra<^a sense of human doom with which we repird iKdipus 
and Hamlet — not men but types of all humanity. 

» • » "  

One of the letts-tro<lden by-ways of history has been explored 
bgr Mr. J. K. Hutchinson, whose account of the Uiont Grenadiers 
— " The Romance of ii Regiment " — has just boon publishe<l by 
Messrs. Sami>8on Low {*>».). The student of memoirs of the 
earlier half of the eij^hteenth century conies across many carious 
examples of the nieth'xls taken by the Prussian recruiting 
officers, to whom Thnckoray has given nn unenviable immortality 
in " Barry Lyndon." But the highest art of these ingenious 
j^ntry was jirobobly exercised in petting together the 2,4U0 
gigantic grenadiers, said to have ranged from seven to nine feet 
in height, who dolighte<l the soul of Friedrich Wilholm. That 
old rogue PoUnitz, for instance, has preserved in his memoirs 
some lively stories of the way in which recruits for the giant 
reginient were, as Carlyle expressively says, " collected, 
crimped, purchaseil otit of every European country, at enormous 
expense, not to speak of other trouble to his Majesty." Barry 
Lyndon has told us how " Morgan Prussia," the Irishman, was 
too much for the Old Dessauer, and we know that occasionally 
the recruiters got a painful chock, as when tiiey had the audacity 
to press the Austrian Aiii>>a!<sailor, Bentenrieder, the tallest 
<liplomatist in Europe. But the (nil story of their stratagems 
has never, we believe, been disentangled from the State pa])ers 
and dispatches in which it lies, and Mr. Hutchinson has had 
opportunity for a pretty piece of historical research. 

•   « 

Tlie Rev. Professor R. Herbert Story, D.D. , who has «uccoc<U'd 
Dr. John Caird as Princijuil of the I'nivorsity of (Jlasgow, is 
well known as an ecclesiastic and litteinlfii: In early life he 
court<«d the muses, and one of his first l)ooks was a volume of 
Terse, " Pi>era8V)ya Parson," jiublished a1)out thirty-seven years 
ago. In 1862 he publishe<l a l)iography of his father, the Rev. 
Robert Story, of Rosneath, and eight years afterwanls 
" Memoirs and Remains of Robert Lee, D.D.," which esta- 
blished his reputation. l>r. Story is what is known in Scotland 
aa " a son of the manse." His father, whom he succeeded in 
1800, was parish minister of Rosneath. 

• • « * 
Speaking of Rosneath recalls one of Sir ^\■alter Scott's occa- 
sional lapses in geography. (His mistake, however, is loss 
serious than that he made fn " The Antiquary, " where, in des- 
pite of natural laws, he contriveil to make the sun set in the 
east). It was to Rosneath that Archibald took Jeanie Deans 
and the " Cowslip of Iiiverary," and it was there that Jeanie 
met her father and Reuben Butler. 

KooMcsth [wra Krottj a ■mailer iiile [that in, smaller than the 

Cum' ' ' '• '—her up the ftiih, anil toward* itn we»trm nhorr, 

»»• Ukc calleil the Cnn- I>ich, ami not f«r from 

I-oc .; — tint, or the Holy I»eh. which wiml from the 

mooat«inx of the Wntcm Hi((hlui<lii to joio the eiilusry of the Clyde. 
It is, however, not an island, but is sitiutted on a long [leninsula. 
While washoil on the south by the waturs of the Firth of Clyde, 
on the east by the Garc Loch, and on the west by Loch Long, 
this beautiful {leninsula is connected with the mainland of 
Argyllshire on the north. 

• •  • 

Th<- 'ter from the Trustees of Dove Cottage 

records .ri.-o of the gra^'cful gift recj-ntly nia<le to 

them by Professor Knight, of St. Andrews :— 

Dear Professor Kniitht,— A nMctiof of the Trustee* of " Do%'e 
CotUce ' ' was held In tlw mootli of Maicb tiiis year, to consider the 

li-tter whirh you bad ail<lrvsiu>d to them, with reKsnl to the K''»<?rouii ({ift 
which you proptiae to maki' to Dove Cottage, uiul through Dovt- t'ottagi- 
to tbr Nktiou, of all thi! editions of NVordNworth'K I'ooms in your posst*K- 
niou, of mnny Wordsworth rt-lirn snil portraita, nkiti'heH an<l cuKravinKS, 
as wi'U a« of original MSS. and lotlira of WonUworth, and of more 
than 2,000 Ietti-r« from men of nolo conrrming Wordsworth and his work. 
The only condition »ul)je<-t to which you made thi« gift wsh that the booka, 
M8.S., and litters should lie proiM'Hy houaird, hookra.'U'a and cabinets 
providail for them, while the portraits, drswiugx, and engravings ahould 
be cither framed or kept in albums a|M'rially made for them. 

It was rcaolvrd unanimously that tho gift should be ueoeptcd, and 
the iM)nilition)t strictly observed, 

'Ilie IVustees— all of whom will sign thia letter — then deputed iiif to 
write to you, and to express their stroug aenKc of your frank and nnmi- 
flcent generosity. 'I'hey feel a jieraonal obligation to you for all that you 
have done for Wordsworth's work and honour, for the fresh kiiouledge 
of hia life and household which you have given to the world, and for the 
light you have thrown upon his poetry. .And this their )iersonal obliga- 
tion has been strengthened by this gift of youra to the Cottage, in the 
order, beauty, and good reiiort of which they take so great im interest. 
And they are naturally pleaocd that this gift coinci from one of them- 
selves, for you have been from the beginning one of the Trustees of Dove 

But while they fe<d their personal oblignlion to you they feel even 
moif how wiilily and bow gratefully the Knglish-speaking public will 
thank you for your gift. It will very largely increase the interest the 
travelling community already have in Dove Cottage. The garden, the 
rooms where the Wordsworths dwelt, will have a new value niid new 
assooiationa ; and the village of (irnsincre itself will owe you thankful- 
nesa. Tlie Trustees are also sure that whin this gift is made public, 
thanks will be rendered to you from all parts of England anil the Colonies, 
and from the fnited Stales of .\meiica. The Dove Cottage is no longer 
unknown to distant lands, or to the remoter parts of (ileal Ik'itain and 
Ireliuid. It iHK-upie.s, as a goal of pilgrimage, u place in this country 
second only to Stialfoid-i>n-.\von. The Trustees hopi- that this national 
gratitude fiir_a national gift may Ix; to you a source of daily happiness. 
I am very sincerely yours, 

rsi,i,„,lj STOPKOnn A. BKOOKE. 

TIittiKuray h eariv aileinpis in joiu'iialisin loft liim a poorer 
and, perhaps, a sadder man. On .January Ti, WX\, there apiiearo<l 
the first numlter of the Nuiioiial SlamUiiil , which claiinod to be 
a " journal of literature, science, nnisic, theatricals, and the line 
arts"; it was imblished weekly at twopence (xsr number. Its 
founder and first editor was " F. ^\'. X. Bayley, Esq.," who 
descrilws himself as " the editor and originator of the National 
0»un7;in,tlie first of the cheap publications." In his now venture 
Bayley was "assisted by the most eminent literary men of the 
day,'' and ho appears to have occupied the editorial chair up to 
and including the eighteenth number, dated .May 4. On the 
front imge of this issue there is a sketcli and some versos, both 
obviously by Thackeray. The poem begins : 

Here is Louis I'liilipjie, the great roi des Kranvais. 
With No. 1!) a new editor succeeded Bayley. " We have got rid 
of the Old Bailey," says the new conductor, in his address to his 
readers. But what, we may ask, was the result of all his good 
intentions — qnid iHiinum ianto ftrd Uic proiiiiiuior liiiitnf I'ho 
answer is that Thackeray, with all his youth and abilities, faile<I 
to make the |>aper "go," and it died of decline on February 1, 
IR'U — the last number on the British Museuiii lilo is dated 
.lanuary 25, 1834. Tliackoray and his stepfather, Major Car- 
niichael Smyth (who is said to have stoixl for the portrait of 
Colonel Newcomi"). lost a goml deal of money over the ventuii-. 
■» »  • 

Mr. BalviiiiDi . m •• Lovel the Widower," had ombaiki'd on 
a similarly unsuccessful venture, and there is undoubtedly n goiMl 
deal of aiitoliiographic feeling in the following sontciice : — 

I daresay I gave myself airs a* e<litor of that confounded MitntHm, 
and pro|Kised to tnlucate the public taste, to diffuse morality and sound 
literature tbniuglioiit the nation, and to pocket a lilieral salary in retuni 
for my services. I daresay I |irinti-i) my own sonnets, my own tragedy, 
my own verses. ... I daresay I wrote satirical articles, in which I 
pii|iied myself on the fineness of my wit, and criticisms, got up for the 
noncn out of eiieyclojn'diaa and biographical dictionaries; so that I would 
be actually astounded at my own knowledge. I daresay I made a gaby 
of mywlf to the world: pray, my good friend, hast thou never done like- 
wise ? If thou hast never Ijeen a fool, be sure thou wilt never be a wise 

July lU, 1808.] 


'Hio NnHiinnl ftlniiilnril, like all iKirmiliriiN of tln> |i<>riu«l, i* now 
«xtrt>inoly diHiciilt to obtniii, anil wu linvo fnilwl to linil Any 
ri'Ciird of Ik nonijileto it«t Imviii); Imcn sold. Tlmro iihoiilil !«•  
C'if^lit niiiiiliorii ; th« nthur ilny a Hi't, ronnisting of lift'. 
iiiimliniH, wim iMiicliiKMiil at .Mi'UHrs. HimI^koiih' for i"Jl t>y Mi •■ 
KoliNoii, and tli« pro)ial>ility ih that hiul it bcvn qiiitu roinil' t' 

it would have realizod iimch more. 

« » • * 

The Shniikliii niithoritiei have docidwl to L'hnn);o lh« nnmoof 
 tJlitr Union "- tho lawn overlooking thu noa and chin« — 
to •' Koats' Green," it having tiuon a«certaino<l that the pottt 
dwi'lt in B lnnf;-since donmliBht-d i-iitt4k);ii clone to thin ii|Mit; 
while it is mipponoil that he conipoMnl " Lnmin " wundi'iin;; 
alon^ this iMiautiftil iijK'n space, which f;ives ouch exU-nnive iiea- 
viewH from Dunnoae to Cnlvnr Cliff. A further pro|KiHal is to 
erect a tittini^ memorial to the iioet in the Church of St. Saviour- 

« • « « 

Mr. (!. Houluor, I^rofessor of Jtotany and Oeoloj»y at the 
<7ity of London ("ollene, in addition to hi« work for the 
" Dictionary of National Bioj^aphy " in which tho TradoHcantu 
liavo occupied him a goml deal of late, has been onpa^'ed 
in seeing throuph the press a new and rewritten mlition 
of tho Rev. C A. Johns' " Flowers of tho Field." Professor 
Itoulfier is also at work upon a now book, a manual on " Wooil "' 
for .Mr. Kdward Arnold's " Practical Science Series," and, in 
<'on,junction with Mr. .Tames llrittun, he is imblishin^ in " The 
.loiirnal of Botany," for subsoi|iu>nt i.«Mue in separate form, a 
supplement to their " Biographical Index of British and Irish 

■» « « « 

Mr. Charles L. Kastlake, late Keojier and Secretjiry of the 
National (Jallery, has just completed the t<'Xt which, while in 
ollice, he undertook to write for Mr. Hanfstaengl's work, 
illustniting and describinj; tho Pictures in the collection. The 
]iul>lication consists of twelve lirraimnii, nine of which are alrejidy 
is8ue<1. They aro devoted serinlim to the Foreipi Schools of 
Vainting represented in tho Gallery, from tho earliest Italian 
examples down to the latest siiecimeiis of French Art, arranj^ed 
under each head in chronological order Each linaianu, sipiare 
folio in size, contains ten full pige and five smaller plates, the 
former executed in photogravure. Care has been taken to select 
those works which adoijuately represent th(« characteristic excel- 
lence of tlie moat prominent masters in each school. In his 
udmirable critical and descriptive Notes, Mr. Rastlake has avoided 
technical matt«r in explaining the i>eculiar merits of each work 
for tho Iwnefit of the general public and amateurs of the arts. 
It is uiu-.ocessary to add that Mr. Hanfstaengl's plates, executed 
for this publication, ensure its artistic value and interest. 

» « •  

Wo understand that Professor J. P. Postgato has accepted 
the oditorshi]! of the ClasMeiil Jirriiir, vacitnt by the retirement 
of Mr. G. K. Marindin. Dr. Postgato, who will be assisttnl by 
Mr. A. B. Cook, Fellow of Trinity College, will make the short 
paragraph one of tho features of his editing. 

« « « • 

The New York Critic, which for several years has held a 
conspicuous position as a weekly p»>riodical devoted to literature, 
has been made a monthly nuigazine, and will compete for public 
favour with the Hitok liitwr and the limtkman. 

« « « * 

The lecture which WM the occasion of Baron Pierre d«' 
Coubertin's article in I^Hfiniuic. .lune 2n, was delivered on 
.lune 5, under the auspices of the CinnHf Ihijiltir, nn organiza- 
tion founded liy M. Bonvalot. the explorer, and by M. Chailley- 
Bert, author of a book on the " Colonization of lndi>-China." 
M. Lemaitre's alliance with the champions of colonization must 
not be taken too seriously. The following jwssago from his 
weekly article in tho Journal ifw l>elHit>, May 14, l&H. is a 
vigorous defence of the other side — that of tho " humanities": — 

. . I'our ni« part, je suis persusd^ iiue. ile savoir le I»tio, er\» 

sen puis.sAinnu'ut, je ne di.s pas A, ictin avec originalitv ou aree eclat. 
iiiins a iif fKUt mal Kcvivv ea franvuis. C'est nion liitiii qni n. ■...;... .r.. ^,r,.^ 


m*\ •««f(« 

I.., iiir 




In > 





"<• •valml fait 
i'f pa* 4 fabv 

notre tonipa, MU-halM. Uirimtm, M*jbI*-Bmw. T«>i» 

or nitf Im 

fltmiteit I : ji- . 
enflii, qiieli'i 
ont suivi i). 
Ki-onilaire et i . 

Kt il u\»i |A» \r*- I 
ni <|u« le trmpa iiu'on y piuae 
qu'onen tire. •'••Uii i|ai, a'y ilaut 
A fcrirv botiD^tinii'iit rn Ulin, jr 
jaiT '   Iravaiix i- 


i.ii I'^'iiii'-. 1,1 ;.■ *.,i^ .•■ frani^Aia, ou .. 
|>artii' parci- ■(in- ji. vtii Ir latin : m jc aaiii le 
fait lies Ter> !-•" i... .1 ...... i,... 

>aii» ri.mi 

lAiT 'JtH? 


■ppimilre air 
clioae*,— re n  
j'*t«i« tr<>» pa 
garantir que !■ ~ 

\a* niaui|ue il«- place m'a t 
Si Ton y rontn-ilit. c* qui i*«' 

» < » 

The RfrUf ./..< />. I 

the reply of M. DiiK- 

Lemaitre's article on this tmgi-<ly. 

n>membt^re«L had writt<Mi t<> M. Binn. ti.'r 

witli the decision of tli>' Court " 

application of the principle of t!i. 

lit«'rature. he would not exact tho 

protest. Tlie Mtitor, however, ha» lei [.i 

generosity, but, on the oontrury. taken 

publishing M. Dubout' ' '.' ' 

which ari' generally 

France. H.- lliiit tli. 

Appeal was t y a sort •■' 

n«"Cessity of a n-iorm of . 

r#;x>iijw. However this m ._ 

case of " Frrfdegoinle," it is to be hopeiL 


• •  

Diuiias iirr* haa recently been celebratt 

Paris in a thesis by M. Hipi><>lyte Pr. 

at tho Lyit-e Condorcct. Every ••i ' 

professors assemble in the cap- - 

their first serious book, as » 

Latin. Tho book rnpreronta u*r 

several years. It is p; 

the examiners, other 

attention, in order t 

ex)Ki«ing its author t<< 

criticism. Btit t' 

the scholarship 

ipialities arc, in t 

still. We see a i 

I <•! pat moD ess. On as psvt. •• c«a Mat(4i«« 








,,. ,- .^..--i.oal 

II of hia ori^nnal 


d bv >• " nt's 


op; in 





wilt not hare benn in 

'1 if tho Cnivsrsity of 
' •feasor of rhetoric 

, ..r „,,.r.. 


I iif?t!« Will ii'ii in 

s c( it« antbor for 

' to 



• ir 

It la not imrely 

if-d : ila lit.rary 


: lU 



[July 16, 1898. 

■Mnbrr . ; . ,„n,^ intellifrihin. This 

brinft* t world. liiRtruetion lias 

thus, in Kntttct', a (lit : on lito, at all ovontn on tlie lifo 

nf {kTM'iifi of culturo. - (oinethinp puiiial in tlio systoni, 

rt'' ' lil'e of Alexanilria uiulor tlio Ptolemies, and nothing 

ooiiKi .-. ,..ith«>r r<«r!>ovo<l from the Uornian method of f^ruering 
up knowled.-' .^^ : m into bams, there to let it rot or gonninnto 

if it may. 

•• «  « 

Tlie Utc^i II. of Mnic. de llovut, " Par Orguoil 
(Lemerre), is ovidi-ntly intended to pive French renders an idea 
ol English society. The plot is simple. A young French girl 
mAirios the heir to an Rnj^lish (werngo, se{iaratos from her 
htuband <lm-ing the honeymoon, ami is reconciK*d to liim eight 
ywu« later. Hut this story takes up only about ono-third of the 
book, the remainder consists of conversations about, or 
deccri|vtions of, Knglish politics, fashions, and scandals. It is 
skilful in workmanship and curious as revealing the point of 
view of an " advanced " French lady. Mme. do Bovot is a well- 
known contributor to the FroiuU, the feminist Paris paper, and 
one of her chief preoccupations, the emancipation of her sex, is 
erident enough in " Par Orgueil." 

• « • « 

Th« t/ouvemanU of Alfred de Mussct, Adele Colin, is about 
to publixh her tourenin of the poet. She is an old lady of 82 
who, after de Musset's death, married a M. Martellct and 
became proprietor of a small jewelry shop in the Rue du Fau- 
bourg 8t. Honore, which she has just sold. 

• • « « 

M. Pierre Loti (M. Julien Viand) has appealed to the 
Omteil d'£tnt for the revocation of the decree putting him on 
the retired list of the French navy, 

« « «  

Messrs. Hutchinson are publishing a novel of Scottish lifo, 
entitlc<l " Fiona Mclver." a romance of the Western Isles, by 

.\rthur J«>nkinson, minister of the parish of Mellan, Argyleshire. 
and "The Modorii Marriage Market," by Mihs Marie Corelli, 
Lady .lenne, Susan, Countess of Malmeslmry, and Mrs. Flora 
Annie Steel. 

  « « 

Mi'ssrs. Jumes Clarke announce " The liook of IjoviticuH," 
translated with uoU'S and illustrations by Dr. S. U. Driver and 
Kov. H. A. Whit*.', M.A., as the fourth issue of the " Polychrome 
Bible." The issue containing Judges, Isaiah, and the Psulms 
has alron<ly Ijuen reviewed in those jjiiges. In Leviticus, the 
three main sources recognizo<l by scholars are distniguisliMl 
by the colouring of the pages. The main body of the priestly 
narrative and laws are uncoloiired ; the law of holiness, the 
earliest group, contained in chapters xvii.-xxvi., is given in 
yellow ; while a few laws regarded as later than the priestly 
narrative are in browni. 

Messrs. Oliphant, Anderson, and Ferrier are publishing this 
month a new volume of the Famo\is Scot« Series, " Sir William 
Wallace," by Professor Murison ; an enlarged edition of 
" Memorable Edinburgh Houses," and a new book by Alexander 
Whyte, D.D., uniform with " Father John of the Greek Church." 
 » • •» 

In " Bwns and the Medical Profession," to be shortly 
published bj' Mr. Alexander Gardner, tiie author, Mr. William 
Findlay, M.D., will trace the friendships of the iwet for members 
of the medical profession, .showing their influence both during 
his life and in biographies and criticisms of his work after his 
death. There will bo portraits of Dr. James Gregory, of " Long 
Sandy Wood," of Dr. William Maxwell— who attende<l him in 
his last illness— and of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, and others. 
The names of meilical and other subscril>ers, who send in their 
names before July IStli, will be inserted at the end. 



i I>p. I>>n- 

.! •<•« Kfc.fKl. 

So ' i^'jione. 



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Ijl Beaumelte et Salnt-Cyr 
d'app^s des Coprespond- 
■nces In^dltes et tir-' i ' : 

The Blue FlRfir- 

ments Nouvenux. 



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The I 


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Kasinii'llc. Kr.3..10. 

Le Mons^utlep. Kr Krnml 

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I.KIK  I'loii. Fr..T.V). 

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1.^,1 t:.! I Nl  .iliii., wii. • .'.lli-t- 

l.oiKliiii. Niw York, 

lsH^. Ix.iitrm.iMH. 7j'. 

Th' ■-' of the Pooe.s fmm 

l*-.'».in . Ux.^ .-7ii i»p. I.oii- 

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.•Hof the Enrlh'M HIs- 

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L'Evol >9e Boua 

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Mepoupe de Pranoe. Saint 

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RtijrloN do Lit t^'flit tipo KuPO- 


NIedei iten. Von 

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Wlllliimii a. Norxatc. 

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\VlndlnK-up of Joint Stock 
Companies, '.'l-i Kil. Hy llil- 
liani Jordan iiiiil /•'. (rofc Jiroirnt. 
7}>;4iii.. xxxiv.-tH8 lip. lyuiulun, 
ISIS. .Ionian. .5m. li. 

The English People In the 
19th Centupy. A Sliori HlNtory. 
Hy 111.- /.'.v. //. /),■ H. (libliinx, 
Il.l.ill. 7 • Ijin. vi. f 17-.' pp. l^jli- 
don. ISilK. Hhuk. 2x. 

A Small BpassCup Kiiiind in the 
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t'loinunt^, Uoilil. Hiirri..*. With a 
Nott) on llir ciiiilire. Hy David 
Murray. I,I,.I). «i>.tliin.. 31pp. 
Ulu'.KUw. 18!IN. MuuLchoHC 


What la Good Muaic? Hy >('. 
J. lii udi rstin. TiA.'iiii.. xili.  '^IVipp. 
New York. isii..'. ScriliiH.T. 

Lean'a Roynl Navy List. Nn. 

!a. '.ij  tiiu.. i7i pp. f.oiHtoii. imis. 
PepsonalFoi ' hoPerlod. 

Kv T. II. S in., viil.f 

.fJO pp. I.OI; 

II 1.-: ,\ 111,1,-koll. 0«. 

M. Bpunetl^pe et I'lndlvldual- 

lame. \'nr A Unrlu. (<Jili"<lionH 

(lu Ti.MiipH rr.'sfiil.) (i)^41in., 78 pp. 

IMrlK. !.•<». Colin. Kr.l. 


Imaginations In Verse. Hjr 
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The Conquest of Constanti- 
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London, 18UK. KuKan, I'uul. &t. 

Idyllic Monologrues. Pncms hy 

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KiiCKH 38. 6d. 


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Life of St. Stephen Hapdlng-, 

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don and I.rf.aliilli^lon. IStlH, 

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Chplst's TeachInK and oup 
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Ixindon and Ix^amiiiict^m. IH!IS. 

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Notes on Mediaeval Sepvlces 
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XI.\. : QiioU;.: and IlnroiiH. Kiln. 
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Boot's "District" Guide to 
London.^i - .ijin..awpp. London, 
IttliH. Saiiiiwun Lew. 1m, 

Editod by ^. ^. (Traill 


Published by ?hr oilttr^. 

No. 10. aATLKUA\. JLt,l :ji. I^S>^. 


Leading^ Article ('ulturt- iiml tlii< ClasHloH 

"Among my Books," l>y tin' Kinlit Hon. F. Max Mhllff 
Poem "Vox Vcris," by Alfrctl I'erci'vnl Orftviw 
"Hatteraa," III., by A. K. W. M .,..„ 
Reviews - 

I'lTsoiial Foi-ccs of tlip Porioil 

nic'tioiiary of Niitional nio^rriiphy 

Kiitflisli Niitioiml IC<l\ication 
The Cnslolliitu' Archives  

CainiwiKin'H 0'Afri<|iio— t'rtiniHiKn»-'» »if' ^ riiin'O. Kc 

Till" " Moiii-o<» Doctrino" 

Scoll.iiul in till' Past 

Diuilci- Kalils mill Itolveri In Iho f)lil<in TlmiM— The Bnttlv of 
StiiTillinuir-Thi' HlKliliuirti of Hrotliiiul in 173(1 .'>; 

t'aylcy's (ViUcctcd Mat lu'niatical Papei-s . 
Eastern Politeness — 
UnadclrosKotl Letters 

MInop Notloea - 

Allt'fforiof* Hi-ih'ip Harlowo'^ I>ialo(fo on tlie Liithemn KHcdonM— 
Sumo t'onuTion Krrors (»f Sim-ccIi Kiipiii^ Kttrt'Hl Tlic Story of 

The Oulde-book 

Bncdvkor'H Ilandbookii— Mr. Qmnt AUen'8 Ouldw— Alptiio GuidsH, 









(^mceriiiiitj Isabel Carnaby 

The Actor Manager 

Prosper M6rini6e, by Henry James... 

Foreign Letters France 

Prom the Magazines 

Obituary Mrs. I.ymi Linton 


Liist of Ne"w Books and Reprints 







tW. 70, 71, 72 


A few weeks ago M. de Coubertin informed the 
readers of lAteratwre that an old controversy had been re- 
opened in France, and that a nation which prides itself on 
its "' Latin " origin was being seriously urged, to disuse 
the Ivttin language as a metliuin of education. We need 
not. perhaps, concern ounselves with the jwrticular form 
winch the debate assumed in the himds of M. .lules 
Lemaitre, since, as M. Anatole France has pointed out in 
the colmnns of a French jjaper, the facts of the are 
wliolly opposed to the '• anti-classical" contention. Tiie 
British people has generally been a scholarly people, 
and. by the admission of their French critics, it seems in a 
fair way of inheriting the earth ; the heads of our great 
business firms have usually received a tinctiu-e, and some- 
times much more than a tincture, of classic learning, 
and our commerce has apjmrently suffered no disadvantage. 
We may therefore dismiss the plea that scholarship is an 
obstacle to practical success, since the history of our 
country for the last three hundred years shows it to be 
comi)letely unfounded. But we must remember that 
Vol. III. No. 3. 

ytft lru«- 

,.lv i...r,,;, 


i-uilurf may 

' Ixith brond 



the hitttory of colonial ent<>rpriiie ; and it may hm oarfal to 

imjuire aj« i "I <fre*k in the 

production >■ 

In the fint place, w« have point«d out tnon* titan 
one*' that there in no ne. 
and educati"" ■•*' '"'V kii*... 
to construe -, a kno\' 

all these amy \if alwent. and 
lie present ; it is ]KMt*ible to \iott~ 
and deep, ami yet to remain in: 
than the rudest iwvage. The t 

who j)08se«ses the sense and app: ....;. the 

beauty of the earth and the air, of music and Mms, of 
colour and form — and he who has It !y, 

he who instinctively loves lovely t _ : -ii-d, 

though he may be entirely icnorunt of all " book learn- 
ing." The |)roj)osition t all the 
most lieautiful works of .1. : , liiule by 
men who would miserably fail to satisfy a modem examiner. 
The singer of the «> ' in; 
all thee.xquisite liter;i. . : _ ri-d 
and {teasant singers ; and we may imagine that the archi- 
tects and craftsmen of ' 'lot 
much concerntnl with tli' ie« 
of their own art. Nay, the old-fashioned English peaaantr 
scarcely sur^■iving into our "the 
knowledge of the wood aiin „ of 
antique tradition and song and custom, was in a very tme 
sense of the word ctilturwi. f! ' ' life of him he 
could not have wiitten his Her«'. then, in 
these examples, is the truest and the beat oalture, the 
unconscious but all-powerful - ^ . . >  .^jg, 
cance and titness. wliicli lefi of 
a jieople which, in the middle ages, not only moulded 
great romance , ' " >hitecture, but set its seal on 
the commonest  ;iy use. 

But, unfortunately, this broad culture is extinct 

To analyse and trac 
of a long es,<ay, or j ■• 
no doubt as to the fact 
songs and tales, the t 
dying out, anti the 1 



The folk no longer invent folk- 

• lly 


the people s]ioke for many hundred years will soon be as 
dead a.s Cuneiform. The new"'" ' " " ♦ionary''w»8 
only just in time. It is long sin. eased to be 

an artist, and it is only necessary to be an inhabitant of 

Tx)ndon, to pa.«- " - ' - - ' - 'lem street to knov 

to what dismal :afl ha.<: sunk. In a 

word, it is not too much to say that natural and uncon- 
scious culture is a thing of the jiast. The great mass of 
the peojile reads the worst books, likes the most detestable 
pictures and the most \nilgar enjoyments, and popular 



[July 23, 1898. 

approval is too olten the most decisive condemnation of 
any work of art. There is, therefore, all tlie ^renter neeil 
for thoee who still hold solitary fortj« a^nst the enemj' to 
•ee that these are not also carried hv assault. Here, then, 
is the use of the "humanities." of those more liberal arts 
which M. Jules I>»maitre esteems inimical to the coloniz- 
ing spirit. The study of Oreek and I^atin must be studi- 
ously maintaineil and defended, and that not only for the 
pedago^c Tea.son that the learning of a dead language is a 
useful mental discipline — a ''something craggy" to break 
the youtliful mind on, good, precisely, because difficult — 
but on broader and more a^thetic grounds. Greek and 
I^atin are precious lieonuse tliey are lieyond all range of 
the modem wave of vulcaritv. We know wliat has been 
done, what is doing, every day with our own beautiful 
speech. No word, no phrase, is safe from the lower jour- 
nalist, the lower novelist, the great army of " men in the 
street," who distort and misuse and contort the English 
language in such a manner that a careful prose style has 
come to be regarded as a jtositive affectation. The mischief 
began with the Puritans, who put the splendid and 
sonorous English of the Bible to base and acrid controver- 
sial uses, singing, as it were, doggerel rhymes to a holy, 
venerable chant. Worse work still was done by Dryden 
and his fellows of the Restoration school ; for these 
violently broke with all the old traditions, with the 
Englisth of the " .Morte d' Arthur," of the Elizabethans, of 
the " Keligio Metlici " and the " Holy Dying." Johnson, 
the master, in his best moments, of a vigorous and 
unaffected prose, was only able, in his attempted revival 
of harmonious and stately periods, to compass a 
pseudo-antique in style which was to his models as the 
Grreek temples of an eighteenth century garden were to 
the temples of ancient Greece. We need not quote 
examples from our own times, an age in which every 
kind of grotes<jue and ill-favoured neologism is welcomed 
not only by journalism but by authors of some pretence 
and credit. The tide is overwiielming, and our cliief if 
not our only refuge lie^ in those ancient tongues which 
are for ever l)eyond the jwwer of innovation and 

Schoolboys, of course, must continue to learn their 
Greek and Latin by rule and system, they must "settle 8r»'8 
business " and "]»ro]>erly base ouv" in the approved manner. 
But when once this drudgery has Ijeen acconi])lished, when 
we have been brought to a due appreciation of the force 
of the i>articles and the importance of the oj)tative, we 
may be content to leave these b<*ggarly elements, and to 
look upon the old literatures of Greece and l{ome as 
perpetual citadels where we may always be secure from 
the mob-violence of these modern times. The " Odyssey " 
will lie a sanctuary, a place exem]>t and secure, when 
I»eople furiously rage together as to the rival merits of A. 
who has sold his thousands, and B. who has sold his 
tens of thousands. H the insincerity, the futility 
of much of our modem drama ajipal us, we can listen to 
the cliant of those who worsliip]»e<l Dionysus, celebrating in 
his honour the mysteries of love and doom. " Daphnis 
and Chloe" is an antidote against our mawkish senti- 

mental novel ; the " Golden Ass " jiresents the atmosphere 
of occultism and magic more skilfully and elaborately than 
any of our dabblings in spiritualism and theosophy. And 
there is always in these ancient tongues the sense of 
strangeness, of remoteness, whioii must be one of tlie most 
valuable jiarts in all instruments of culture. By the very 
form of the words, by the sound of the rolling Greek line 
or the sonorous Latin prose, we are reminded of the fact 
that the essence of articulate speech lies not in its 
sense, its utiliUirian convenience (for animals can com- 
municate their needs and jiurjwses to one another), but in 
its lx>auty, its jxjwer of suggesting images which are not 
useful but a\'*thetic. The tone and the voice of these 
tongues, which are dead to the mischief and the trouble 
of modem life but alive for evermore to art, recall us to 
the great truth that language was in the beginning a 
mystic music, which has been adapted by degrees to utili- 
tarian purjioses. Our own tongue, though we may love 
it and use it well, is still and must ever be the medium 
of our common needs, of our workday and necessary 
puqioses, but these ancient languages are like vestments 
set apart, reserved for high and solemn offices. Or we may 
say that if English is the town of our toil and labour and 
struggle, we keej) holy day in the serene (irecian city, on 
the Roman hill above the olives and the vines. 


Personal Forces of the Period. By T. H. S. Escott. 
8J xufm., viii. ( aaspp. Ix>nil()n, l«l>8. Hurst & Blackett. 6/- 

So inexhaustible is Mr. Ivscott's memory for the 
political and social incidents of his time, and so untiring 
are his labours as a literary portrait jjainter of con- 
temporary notabilities, that, if he goes on at his ])resent 
rate, he will leave no subjects for the biogmjilier of the 
future, and will discount all the gossi]) which is being so 
carefully recorded for the benefit of the next generation 
by the diarists of to-day. Within the thirty short chapters 
of " Personal Forces of the Period " he ranges from 
Buckingliain Palace to the City rid Downiiig-street, 
Whitehall, the Strand, and Fleet-street, scattering anec- 
dotes and ])en-and-ink sketches in ])rofusi<)n as lie goes. 
He looks in, of course, at both Houses of Parliament, calls 
at the great Administrative dejwirtments, jmuses at the 
Lyceum to gn-et Sir Henry Irving and notice '• other 
lights of the ])lay," stops o])|)Osite tli(> new I>aw Courts to 
discuss a few lawyers, " takes a walk" down Dr. .lolinson's 
favourite thoroughfare, cheerily hailing a friend here and 
there at the windows of the newspaper offices, and, finally, 
among the great financiers of lyombanl-street, takes a 
momentary rest from his interesting jiromenade. Even 
from this itinerary we have had to omit a short detour by 
Brook-street (let us say) for the ]iurposc of a little chat 
abf)ut the '• faculty " as a " social force," and later on a 
brief diversion in the direction of the City Tc[n[)le to take 
a thumbnail sketch of Dr. Parker and to discourse 
generally on the " Personal Forces r)f \on<-onfonnity." 

The effect, of course, is a litth* bewildering ; it is 
nmch the same, in fact, as though one sliouiil have 
actually met all the j>ersons of whom Mr. Escott talks, 
at length or briefly — not far short of three hundred in 
number — in thecourseof a walk from the (ireen Park to the 

July 23, 1898.] 


<'Oiiu'r of (inK'P<'liurcli Strt'i-t, and, aft<T lui\ iiig ••xi'liun;;<*«l 
a fi'W words with t'acli of tlu-iii, slioulil liiive contiiiuiHi 
our walk diwiisxing tin- flmracter and nbilitifs of cin»' 
after anotlHT witli a frii-iiil wli<» liai)|ifnfd to ]«)- 
most intitiiate and fxliaiistivc kiiowlcdjjc not oid\ 
facts alxmt tlitMii,l)Ul of tlieir iicrsonal and fiiinily lii-'ioiy. 
tlieir lineal and collateral ancestry, and the inalrinionial 
alliances of their nearest relations. The flow of infonna- 
iion, too, is so copious as occtisionally to make us doubt 
whether this, that, or the other anecdote is im veru as it 
is nsiially bfn Irovnlo, especially when Mr. Escott's own 
account of his "sources" is as mysterious as it is in the 
followinfj passage, with reference tn .Mr. Disraeli's memor- 
uhle "defence" of Lord Salisliin v in iln- iltlni.- mi Hi.- 
Tuhlic Worship Kegulation Hill. 

Tlioso who Imvi! ni/t forj-ottim iin' ili ti;u<'s on ; 
Worsliip Hill i>f 1S74 may just rociill tho C'onsorvfiti\  
of tlio (lay and |>mt iiuthor of the moiiKiiro us hnviiii; ^i-mu m.- 
Hiiiiso with lefiMoiioo to the clauses on episuoiml unil iiiclii- 
ei>iBoo|)iil jurisdiction not to take too sciriously tlio initios 
and llout« and joors of which liis nolili- friund in tin- 
l']inor Hou8(>, the Indian Sei-rcitnrv, wag n j^oiit master. 
< )niy wlicin, if ever, liord Salisbury's jwivatw papers are pulillshod. 
will tlioro be rnvi-alod Disranli'a oxpiaiiitlion of this desi-ription 
|H)ncille<l roughly within a fnw niinutos after it wan ^iven. It 
was aa follows : — " I have attumpted a humorous apology 
for yon in tho House of Commons, and it may not road so wfil 
as, 1 think, itsoundod." So ran tho words of the memorable 

which, however, has not had to wait for tlie '* when, if 
ever," of the jiuhlication of Lord Salisbury's ])rivate 
jjiijiers, but has, by some mysterious feat of clairvoyance 
on Mr. Kscott's i>art, been '' revealetl " already. And 
though Lord Salisbury's early connexion with jounialism 
is, of course, matter of common knowledge, it almost 
e<|ually savours of occultism that Mr. Kscott should he able 
to trace his daily journeys in })ursuance of his jirofessiou 
as a leader-writ(>r, betwe<'n his chambers in the Albany 
and his newsjiaiier otHce in Shoe-lane, with such startling 
exactitude, and should even have aacertaine<l that "about 
the sanu' time as his fellow-<'ontributor to the Sfttiinhii/ 
lievieii; Mr. .Fohn .Morley, Lord Salisbury came under 
the iutluence of the ])olitical philosophy of Voltaire." 
The anecdote related of the present Duke of Devonshire 
in illustration of liis abiding interest in mathematics 
that "some years ago, when toying with ]v»per and 
l)encil during a dull half hour in the House of Commons, 
Lord Ifartington was thought to lie dozing." but was ascer- 
tained on a closer inspection to be "trying to write out from 
memory the formula of the Hinomial Theorem," is a story 
which, whether true or not, might have reached the 
naiTator through ordinary mundane channels of informa- 
tion. Hut the following hitherto unrecorded jiractice 
of the same statesman when " (X"casional leader of the 
House of Commons in the earliest eighties" — it could 
hardly have been more than a very occa.sional leadership 
so soon after Mr. (iladstone's return to the Premiership 
Hushed with electoral victory — "Mwi surely lia\" Ii"<>i! 
su|iematurally communicated :- 

When tho oU>otric li^ht was not vit in the Clix'.k Tuwor, so 
that the risinji of the Chamber did not signal itself across tho 
Park to Piccadilly, two jirrooms in tbe Cavendish livery rmie out 
of I'alacc Yard at tho moment tho Speaker was known to U- leaving 
the Chair for his chop. Thns were the tidings convoywl to tho 
family cook that his lordship would inesently 1h> tiiick to dinner. 
It was quite a feature in )Hipular afternoon amusement. The 
Cavondisli gi-oonis wore chot>red alike as they ontortsl and dis- 
apj>oare<l from Palace Yard as if the}' luul l>eeii State e<iuerrios 
clearing tho way for tho Sovereign. 

U would be jiedantic to demand strict historical accuracy 
from so picturesque a writer as Mr. Escoit, but if this 
jterhaps over-rated virtue were to be insisted on, it might 


in him m a t 

...11. ..i .. "»(.,.. ;.i 





mmewhat «hak>* our 

Vj,.t..r;,.„ ;.,..;. I .i,,.. 


' [in 1 , 

few h' 

The . , 

occunt is devoted to a sketch of l>onl li 

the cleven'st, t' ' ertniniy • ' '' 

the volume. '1 of llie •■ 

of a distinctly 

(•et»m» to have • 

in which h> 

of all |)arti. . 

]>oliticiHnH. There 18, n<' 

l)ut its originality is un >k-. 

it is not dilH<-ult, to 

I such e.  ie« of pi. 

I we nil 1 that « 

sketches to the somewhat incoherent and 
 relevant strings of anecdote. Inde*-*!. •>- 
I (lortionft of these two ingredients, Mr. 
I rather tcK> nui' ' ' ' " •' • 

• IvHik. He -itrik 
' cl 
I va; , 

i number of jiersons more or les-s familiar 
' world in general, and who has i-.--.:.- .ii. y. 

thing he ba-s ever in his life 
, somehow or other, !■• ' 
' of course, a little 

too often the violence of the procew 

tion is not wholly conc-ealed even by 

reconcile oonrlvMi to 


to th«' 





or tlie 

of the 

" pump 

very considerable ingenuity, and the jienton 
anecdote apjiears on the stage with imr-- ••' -•<l manner of Mr. Vincent Cn. 
and tub." Such, for in- 
tern irreverent, is the .■. 

res|)ected Bishop of Oxford makes \\\ uiim<>- 

d lately after an account of "I'rinii'i •.' No 

doubt the title of the book w.i ted for 

the j)urpose of covering of till- khi'i. - ind 

Hi.sforian : The Hieht Rev. Dr. C. \V. Stubh> of 

course, a g' ter 

of a lx)ok 1 i ' — 

except that the Hisho)i is din-orateii inuial 

projKjrly belonging to his namesake, l... , ;,ly. We 

should hesitate to deny that this estimable and aocom- 

l)lishe<l j)relate is a " j" 
we should etjually shn 
attribution to many "• 
whom no, or only tl^- 
Kscott's pages. 

The same caprii . 1- ;-■ .- ..,.-.,..,. ... 

certain arbitrarily .selecttnl members of 

 '• i-ed as a social force. Their i 

, utly l>e<*nu''e thev are «l«o in M' 

lKx>k, and ' 

the I'oet 1.1 

the chapter by the same route. 
Meredith, considered by itse''  '■ 
but here asain the critic ui 
list of ' 
by the, 

.Mrs. Hiddell, the author of ' 
fluence*! more widely and d.-. 
journalism, the criticism, am! 
It is a vertigo no doubt of a unnKni 

d," but 




'the t. 

The rtudv of 








[Jul^ -o, 1898. 

li . ther tlu" brain is set wliirliiifj more wildly 

Iv. ._..i of Mr. (ieorge Men-dith uml Mrs. Kiddell 

o «ith ench other in formative infltieiic-e u|H>n 

tl . critics, ami > ' ' of the day, or by tin* 

iii 1 Mr. Henry l >'re aj* the <iri<jinal of 

lii i! Klii>i°.-< "Daniel Deronda." Of 

coui>' _ lo a reader by remarket like these 

is not altogether a disagreeable one, and they carry with 
them n _«,;,•■■:■•"••- promise of otlier like shooks to come. 
But they >'■ 'in siicli solid merit as might otherwise 

b<- " ' 1 loi- a • ' ' ' !i would have lieen more 

va . : its indr i.ilf the numlvr of names, 

and i: lor had devoted more of his undeniable wit 

and ^. .-s to his sketctu'- "f (l\i>>:i' ulm n-ally 

deserved to sit for their portrait.". 

Dictionarv of National Biography. KtUted )>y Sidney 
Lee. Vol. I.\ ., Stow-Tnylor. Oi xOiui.. vi. . I>J(! im. Ixjii.loii. 
I80K. Smith, Elder. 15/- 

This colossal literary enterprise moves onward towards 
its successful completion. Every volume that apjx»ars 
testifies to the excellent judgment of the editor, and, 
thanks tot' ious collalwration of his numerous 

contribiitfv - l>eing continued with a regularity 

and a • uess wiiich are beyond jmiise. 

T;. ,. :it volume contains the names of few men 
who are entitled to be called truly great, though there are 
many which are conspicuous in the second and third 
degree. One man indeed there is of the foremost rank 
— Dean Swift — -and ids treatment has fallen into the 
hands of Mr. l.#slie Stephen who, in what is the longest 
biography in the volume, gives us a clear and interesting 
view of the claims and character of one of the strangest 
personalities in the entire roll of English men of letters. 
The story of .Swift's life is a sad and pitiful one. To 
a mind gifted with the highest jKjssibilities we see 
unitetl a soul rent asunder by volcanic jwssions. To 
such a nature as his the success of inferior men must 
have been maddening ; and his burning scorn of the 
world, his intense jjrejudices, and his ingrained pessimism 
are jirohabiy without a jmraliel. In his luminous summary 
of .Swi ■-, the biograjiher observes tliat 

his hiu always a .^Jtrdonic tinge. What 

Swift might iiave developed into had his career been 
successful we shall never know. What we do know is that 
he was " a man of i>roud and ma,xterful nature doomed 
to dependence on weaker men ; suflering till jMwt middle 
life from hoix* deferred ; and, after a brief gleam of 
triumph, sent, with all his ambitions crushed, to eat his 
heart out in exile." 

Sevj-ral Archbishops of (.'anterbury are treated of in 
this volume — to wit, John de Stratford, the fearless 
opfionent of Edward III.; .lohn Bird Sumner, wlio was 
di-' " r the imjwrtiality cf his attitude to the 

tW' !'•!= in the (Jhurch of England; and 

Arcliibald ' ! Tait, who j)rol«bly wielded more 

influence i;. i mient and in the country generally' 

than any other A^chbi^hop since the Reformation. Dr. 
Tal" ' i. treatment at the hamls of Dean 

Ff •^ of the Arciibisliop that " his 

efl Miarily to enhance tlie jifjwer 

of • _. , 1 up a just and (iixl-fearing 

nation. For this pur]KM<e he endeavoured to ex|>and the 
Church system, giving it breadth as well as intensity. 
His administration of the Archbishopric of Canterbury 
gi' ' ;in<l con vert <•(! the office 

fr<; ind to something like a 

Patriarchate of the whole Anglican communion.*' 

In his sket<?h of John Stow, chronicler and antiijuary,. 
the editor shows how a biography may be jmcked as full ofi 
information as an egg is full of meat. The mere reading 
of the few columns of such a notice gives no idea of the 
labour involved in its prwhiction. (ieorge Edmund 
Street and his work in ecclesiastical architecture find a 
chronicler in Mr. Paul Waterhouse, and .Xgnes Strickland 
a discriminating critic in Miss Elizabeth Lee, who justly 
says of her subject that she " was laborious and j)ain.staking,. 
but lacked the judicial temper and critical n\ind nece.ssary 
for dealing in the right spirit with original authorities." 
The Stuarts, even with the members of the lioyal House 
excluded, still number some forty biograi)liies, the most 
prondnent in the list, viz., the statesman John Stuart,, 
third Earl of Bute, falling to Mr. Kussell Barker. Probably 
no statesman so utterly unfit to direct the destinies of a 
great nation ever wielded so much power as the unpopular 
Earl of Bute. Mr. A. F. Pollard narrates the most 
adventurous career in the volume in his sketch of Captain 
Thomas Studev or Stukely, the hero of many dramas and 
ballads. William Sturgeon, the electrician, who foresaw 
early in the present century that electricity would become 
the prevailing illuminant, is treah'd by Mr. William (Jee;. 
and Charles Stnrt, one of the ])ioneeis of .\ustralian 
exjjloration, by Mrs. Napier Sturt. A prominent literary 
biography is that of Sir John Suckling, the ix)et, by Mr.. 
Thomas Seccombe. The first edition of Suckling's 
" Fragmenta Aurea " is highly esteemed by book-collectors. 
The ]X)et's more ambitious works are a heavy trial to the 
spirit to read, but some of his lyrics, such as the " Ballad 
on a Wedding " and " Why so pale and wan. fonil lover ? " 
are deservedly immortal. 

Among the Sullivans are A. .M. Sullivan, the Irish- 
politician, and Barry Sullivan, the tragedian. Concerning 
the latter, Mr. Josejih Knight tells us that he ])layed the 
part of Hamlet 3. .)()() times. In the ])rovinces Sullivan- 
was extremely ])0])ular. The important hiograiiliy of 
Thomas Sydenham, the jihysician (l()24-lG8y) has l)een 
entrusted to Dr. J. F. Payne. The author remarks 
that, "intellectually, Sydenham's most striking character- 
istic was his independence and repudiation of all dogmatic 
autliority in matters of science." He was regarded as an 
innovator, but he was a man of undoubted genius, and " is- 
admitted to have made an ejioch in medical science. 
Haller has u.xed his name to denote a i)eri(xl in the history 
of medicine ; Bm^rhaave never mentioned it without a 
tribute of resjiect." Among Profes.sor J. K. I.4iughton'» 
naval biograpliies in this volume is one of Admiral Sir 
liichard .lolin Strachnn. Strachan was a«.«ociate(l witii the 
second Earl of Chatiiam in the dL-^astrous Walclieren 
expedition, which gave rise to the famous but limjnng 
epigram mercifully s])ared us by the author of the article. 
Dr. Hichard (ianiett writes the article on John 
Addington Symonds, the autlior of " The Henais.sance in 
Italy," and .Mr. I^eslie Stephen that on Sir Henry Taylor, 
author of " Philij) van Artevelde," and Iwth are dis- 
tinguished for their just a]»])reciation and insight. Dr. 
Gamett also writes an excellent article on Serjeant Tal- 
fourd, the author of" Ion." Of the numerous Talbots in- 
the volume mention must be made of the twelfth Earl 
Oind only Duke) of Shrewsbury, by Dr. A. \N'. Ward ; .John 
Talbot, the first Earl of Shrewsbury, by Mr. .lames Tait f 
and Richard Talbot, Earl and titular Duke of Tyrconnel, 
by Mr. Richard Bagwell. The Taylors in the volume 
number no fewer than eighty-five. The remarkable family 
of the Taylors of Ongar is rlealt with by Mr. Seccomfw ; 
Thomas Taylor the Platonist, by Dr. J. M. Higg; John 
Taylor, the Water Poet, by .Mr. Gordon Goodwin ; and 

July 1:3, 1898.] 




.liTfiiiy Taylor, tliiit riirysostoin ol Liivului aivmis, by 
tlic Ufv. AlfxaiKliT (iordon. 

Hy llifHi- citntioiis it will In* seen wliiit. a 

bf interest uttiu-heH to tiiin voluiiu' ; and, for " ... 

can conoeive no more inntructive or pleaiiurHble reading 
"than this pxliaiistivp record of men and women who have 
done sometliinfj — whether small or ^real — to entitle their 
■names to a place in Knglisli history or liteniture. 

English National Education. By H. Holman, M.A. 

71 - 5111., iVI |)|>. (•• Xictoi'iati Ki'a " Scries.) I^indoii, WW. 

Blackle. 20 

*' TliiTH ruiimin Imt two tliin>,'s to 1)« done to nmko jirnfti- 
cally jM-rfdct our sy.'ttom of imtioiml o<luciition — vi/., to iiiuki< it 
nntioiial iviul to iiinke it ixliicntioiml." .^iich in tho soiiiowliat 
disni>pointin;; coiii-lii.sion tt) which tho writer of this inttTostiiig 
ami woll-informotl sketch of tho pronross of oleinentary tMhication 
in Kn^lanrl coinos in liia lost i>ara^ai>h. We have, he coiisiilurs, 
at |ireH«nt only " tlie raw material " out of which to inakd a 
iwilly olliciont system of schools. Our teachers " have no 
auitoriors, as practical toacliors, in tho world " ; but not one per 
cent, of tli«n> are true oOucntors. Tlioir training has been 
(liructtHl by no scientific princi|)le8 ; and the t«'acliint,' which 
•they give is at present '' little bettor than tho most inti^lligeiit 
form of crnmniing." No ox|)t>rt technical knowlc<lge is thought 
necessary for the administration of education. Educational 
questions are generally approached from tho point of view of 
political or sectarian partisanship rather than in the interest of 
«ducation itself. And, to crown all -we might add, in a groat 
measure accounting for all— pid)lic opinion has not as yet lieen 
educfttf'd up to appreciate tho true value of education. That 
this latter point is still true of all classes of society, and of 
every jwirt of Kngland, except [lerhapa London and tho I'niversity 
towns and some of the grout manufaot\iring centres of tho North, 
is soon ajiparent to any one who trios to stimulate his neighl>ours 
to some onthusiftsm for e4lucation. Take any average county or 
co\nitry district, and estimate how nuioh knowledge al)out or 
interest in education can be detected in any class, from the 
representatives of tho district in Parliament down to tho field 
labourers, and it will Iw loss ditlicult to understand why the 
history of national education in Kngland is " melancholy " in 
Mr Holman's eyes as a record of disustrously slow progress and 
" woful wa.ste of energy in sectarian struggles." Why, for 
instance, <loe8 tho " religious dilliculty " loom so largo and 
prove so obstructive to educational progress in Kngland as com- 
jmrod, say. with (iennany, Switzerland, or even Scotland ? Is 
it not because, in the absence of any national interest in educa- 
tion jH'i- xe, tho fiolil 1ms been left to those who felt keenlj- about 
education as a moans, first and U-fore all, of imparting particular 
roligiovis doctrines or strengthening a particular ecclesiastical 
system ? Tt is all very well to condemn, as Mr. Holman does in 
no measured terms, tho Anglican Itishops and clergy as well as 
Nonconformist Churches, for having Wen, with the Imst int«'n- 
tions, " tho great barrier to thorough and general progress." 
Tho charge is, unlmppily, too well boruo out at many points in 
the history set forth in these jMiges. But tho real blame, surely, 
lies with tho national iudiirerence to and ignorance alsiut educa- 
tion nowhere greattn- than within the walls of Parliament - 
which first of all left the Churches to perform one of tho chief 
duties of a State towards its citizens, and then ac<]uiesced in the 
natural efforts of tho clergy to retain the control of what had so 
long boon in their own hands, and in which, as Mr. Holman 
admits, they had done much gooil service to the State. Had it 
not been, indeed, for the voluntary efforts of the clergy and 
such laymen as Mr. Haikes, the foumler of Sundoy schools, and 
of the great Church societies, there would not hove tioen even 
tho modicunj of popular education that existed at the establish- 
ment, in 1)^"10, of tho Committee of Council on Education. 

Mr. Holman traces his subject through certain more or loss 
definite stages -the " roign of the voluntary .system " up to the 
■«nd of tho last century ; the " days of doles." or Parliamentary 



fiiif ti iti 

U) try it* o*> 1 
1 int4>rv»t f'-^ 1' 
It is  ! 

 .w, . ill the light -n 
anil prejudii-i', and u*< 




of < 

Beh ; , . . .. 1 

tion of the poor were intvndtxl to > 

mission and to repress fr«c(lum of irp,,,...,! .m, > 

suBpicii ns have, as Mr. Holman shows, l«<m •: 

results. Crime has decreasml cont»m(K>ranwia«lr 

jmrtly. it may be oammml. in conMyineitoe of the 

education ; t'  have Ik<<- 

while enjovii in fh* •■ 



inclined to grumbto at present reenlts « 

very readable sketch of what has actually I 

Mr. Holman, if we nnderstand him rightly, 
attention should now be given, nut *o ni'ir)- ' 
metho<l8 and nnichinory, aa to improving the . 
which already exist ; and ho is i>' ' 
notion, too common among o<l> 
that all wo have to do is to ' 
success of which may l>o due to  
'. such as. • 
and univci 
improved supply and more tiie; 
simplification of curricula and 
decreasing tho multiplicity of n 
tion, and for introducing into ito ..... 
of expert knowlc<1ge are sensibly a 
and point to the linos ufwu whi' ' ' 
cslucation must proceed as it ^^ 
of ii ' 1 prejudice, ainJ Iroui Uie ruts 

sect ;sy. 

t pboa* 

fi.r t.,itW3a- 



» !■ Uid 

• pri I' I '■! 

• ti ; 









 r», foe 

.. • . for 


and mire of 



ail .M.lleehal de ( ■>. 

Plon. Fr. 7.60 

Campagnes de Crim^e, ditalie, d'AfHque, de Chine, 

et de Syrie, 1849-1862. l/-t' -<■•» .ki Man^hal de 

Ca.slellane. !t  ."»iiii.. CM pp. I' PlOD. FV. 7.60 



i if 




side of 111 

to this volume ot h-tters now puhlishi-<) Ir^ 
archives an attention more critical than it woi. . . 
it ba<l appeared a year ago. Its special import has 
note<l, and is ot>rtainly strikin|t. It — • — -  
brilliant narrmtivo, and historioal ^' 
the ma.Hs of letters writt«>n to >' >i.> 

seat of war by some of the ii 
French troojw in .\lsi>ria a 

history of the (>eriod. Mnt ' :» 

in their strangely a>: traukiieoe, wi. - iiima 

among the most sugir>- utenta that wr ulitoty 

literature. This was the re.xult of a systen its elabora- 

tion seems to have t)een j^oeuliar to the M <'astellane. 



[July 23, 1898. 

TIm Manila] hald, dorini; foartMu yean, the oommand of the 
amy uf tht> Kastem PyreneM. In lA3r> the AlpTiiin war 
(laprirad him of aome of hi* tinont rcf^iments. Many of t)ioir 
nflieen baoame hia aaoiduouii corresimiidenta, lceopiii(; him 
iiifomu-d almost ilay by day of the pruf^ss of ovfiito, and 
rt'latini: tho thouMiiul-Hii(l-ont> dotaili* of the cnm|>ai);n with a 
I which remh'r.H their jx-r 'ily enUTtainiiif,'. Not 

we here an all but oonu , 'i-j- of the ('on<|Uo8t of 

\;_.t... iniii 1)<W> to ItM" l liy the con<|uoror8 theni- 

s<'!\.'>. t)i>' Itiigeaada, tlio < . the C'liaiigariiioR<, the do 

N'.;!i<-iN, \-c., but the curious thing is that Marshal de 
*':istoll:ine aeema t<> hare previously impressed u)>on his 
subordinates the duty of unburdening their minds to him, and of 
speaking; with a freedom which would socm to Ih> the negation of 
discipline, about the conduct both of their brothers-in-arma and 
of their chiefs. The result is a constant flow of letters to the 
addnaa of tlie Marslml, every one of which, if publisluHl at the 
time, would have l)o«n for the writers the occasion of violent 
disciplinary meaiiures. It is a remarkable revelation of the 
military mind. Marshal de Castellane, in fact, whom we have 
been tau};ht to fancy the very incarnation of discipline, 
encourage<l his former sulKtnlinatel to speak ill, and a k<>o<1 deal 
of ill, of tlieir chiefs. To show the sort of thing referred to, a 
single passage will suffice. Writing from Blidah on May 18, 
IMl, General Changarnier says : — 

I hare not th« timo to tell you the story of the rerant expeditions. 
ntey hare aerrett to reveal the military qualities and faults of the 
(ovemor. Tlie Utt«r far exceed tbc former. . . . AVc have not noted 
in him tbr t mid attentive eonreni for the troops which i< the 

chief, altl. tiu. basis of hin reimtation. Ho lacks in);pnuity as 

a ftrategiM. . . Koally I thought him much alilcr. . . . 

Boastful, always braxginR, he unhesitatingly claims, or, when that is not 
possible, denies the services rendere<I by his subordinates. 

There are many other letters of the same discription. lint there 
it no need to insist. Those pages are extremely suguostivo, and 
poaaeaa an importance far beyond their merely transitory and 
accidental interest. 

The second volume will be even more interesting to English 
readers. )Iore than IHM pages are taken up with the progress of 
events in the Crimea, the details of the oi)erations of the allied 
armies l>eiiig reporte<l witli the same frankncs.s and fulnoss which 
characterized the earlier letters from Algiers. The history of the 
Crimean Wnr. related thus without thought of publicity by the 
lea<l ' cers engage<l, remlors this publication one of 

the I:. .1' and valuable of its kind. One fact comes 

out constantly namely, the extreme friendliness of the relations 
existing between the French and English oflicers. Chef fVescadron 
Vic«i, who ha<i been detache<l to the service of Lord Raglan, 
writaa as follows to the Marshal under date of August fl, 1854 : — 

I bare b«-n Dearly three niontlis now in the midst of the Knglish 
anny, and the closer I examine it the more I am struck with the way in 
which it anit<-« the ■(ualitii.s nhieh make the sii|ieriority of armies. It is 
above all : i^lity nf its men, for its s|iirit of suhordi- 

nalion, fi' r the regularity and precision which it 

nujiifact* III III "- inovi'iiiintK Such an army cannot fail to do great 

. DecendK-r 10, 1854 : 

- as the invimtors of comfort, uie in adoration 

and tlie paternity of our goveniinent. Tliey 

' imitate as, anil they confess, with n frnnlcucss 

liat we are their maatero. Col. Ilariling (lir), 

'k''" »tafr, lias often told me that he hail written 

to hi« f«lj*i-r, ^' ' the .Vrmy in Englsnd, to jiropose to liitn 

lo imitate OS ■••d for lii« .Army certain of our ways of 

doiac things. Liiiii,i in jwi'- v with s^-veml su|ierior 

oAcen of the (iuiiHls. an<l luxim; ntn iioiis with the officeni of 

the division gn. i • n in a ,;i.oil |s)sition to ap|ireciate 

the dignity ■in i.-r of the English otficer. If we 

iife. if, in a word, we are bettt-r 

eilucation, abnegation, ami cool 

' and ileath « duly. The 

•n the hattleHelds will 

' • ■'. •■■• • . -iii|. U'twren tlie two |>««)iles. 

I am iloti sn to bring about this fusion, 

- (l.»llic » I . W 

TIlis, it must be athnittod, roads like ancient history. AniT 
indeed it is the echo of emotions now nearly fifty years gone by. 
This "confraternity of arms" — to quote the term coDsecratetl) 
by the toasts of the Franco-Russian alliance— lacked then the 
sanction of a confraternity <if national feeling. The ]iernsal of 
this volume reveals once more the irony of history, while 
suggesting that the Zeitgeist is a Hamlet who plays U)ion the 
souls of nations as easily as the great ironist of Sliuke6|>eiire on 
his Ilut4-. For the statesman it is simply a question of controlling 
the stops. 



Few " doctrines " have given rise to a greater " flood of 
sentiment and rhetoric " than the Monroe doctrine, and 
exposition in this case, as in so many others, aeenis rather to 
have diH'pened than dissipated its mystery. If, as Mr. W. F. 
Reddnway, whom wo liovo (pioted al)ove, tolls us in his book on 
the subject, Tiik Monkok Dotkink (Cambridge : University 
Pres."), .'is. (kl,), the doctrine " becomes -tlie more dangerous 
the less it is understood," no time, indeed, ought to be lost in 
making it " plain and clear." This is Mr. Reddaway's object, 
and it is olso that of M. Maurice D. do Beauninrelmis, La 
DoiTRiNK UK MosBog (Larose, Paris), whose countrymen seem 
08 much in noe<l of onlightt-nmont as Mr. Reddaway's. Both 
Iraoks are interesting, though » trifle dilfuso, butlioth, we think, 
attach themsolvos too closely to the " doctrine " as laid down 
by President Monroe, instead of treating it as a mere hnndy title 
to describe the jiolicy or tendency of a great State which wishes 
to bo spared from overwhelming armaments. A'icwed in this 
light, it deserves respectful consideration. Mr. Reddaway says 
it " may bo roughly descrilied as a prohibition by the I'nited' 
States of Kuropean interforonuo with the political arrangements 
of the Now World." M. do Reaumarchais somewhat flippantly 
paraphr.tsos it as /'.'l»ieW</i»'' <i".r -■lm»'yicrtiii.<, or rather, 
V Amfriqnf aux ElaU Unit. 

Though the doctrine was set forth by President Monroe in 
1823, it really derives its origin from the policy of non-int«'rven- 
tion of Washington himself— a policy of which it is merely a 
corollary. Mr. Reddaway overlooks this fact, and neither he 
nor M. de Rentimarchni.'i has apprcciate<l fully that in national 
I»olicy individual statesmen are mere temporary executants, and 
their reasons mere outer rippling duo to the deeju'r unilerourrent 
in the national consciousness itself. Washington said, in his 
farewell mldress : — 

KuroiM' lias a set of primary interests which to us have a very remote 
relation, or none at ull. Hence she must heengagetl in freipieiitrontroversies, 
the causes of which are cswutially foreign to our concenis. Hence, 
theri'foie, it must la- unwise in us to implicate oui-selves by nrtiQcial ties 
in the onlinary vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary coinbinations 
and collisions of her friendship* or enmities. Our detached and distant 
situation invites and enable* uk to pursue a different course. 

This ixilicy of non-intervention in European affairs has been 
the keystone of the foreign policy of tlio United States through- 
out a century devoted to the dovelopmc^nt of hor unrivalle<l 
position and resources. It has boon a successful policy. When 
Mr. OInoy, in his now famous desiiatch of August 7, 1895, 
said : — 

llius far in our history we have lieen spare<l the burdens and I'vils of 
immense stamling armies and nil the other accesaories of huge warlike 
estnlilishmeiits, and the exemption has largely contributed to our national 
greatness and wealth, as well as to the happiness of every citizen, 

ho certainly did not overstate the advantages which tho United 
Stat«!S have derived from a situation that permits her Govern- 
ment to hold aloof from European rivalries and complications. 

Upon Waahingt<iir« policy of iion-inturvenlion in Kuroiiean 
affairs, however, has bo«>n grafti-d a priticipio of action. While 
remaining true to tho former, American staU-smeti, early in tho 
history of their country, came to aeo that tho very objects which 
dictated non-intervention, as regards non-American affairs, 
r(K]uiro<l tho adoption of a somewhat different |K)licy towards 
fellow-Repiililica on the Atnerii an continent itself. It is iiHiial 

July 23, 1898.J 



to attribute tho Ktarting of tho latter policy to Cnnninp, whoae 
oorroHpiimluiiou with Rush (tlmii United St in 

London) wiiH Ht'ut by I'mxiditnt Monnw to in , in 

olUco, Jetrorsoii nnd MiiddiHuti. TliiH oorrovjionduni-o dmill with 
the propoxition that a stand should bu uiudu aguinat tho 
intorvuntioD of tho Holy Allianco in Soutli America, .leirurson 
wroto, in reply, ii letter, which nmy bo callod tho rool basis of 
tho Monroo dootrine. " Otir first ond fundumontul muxim," he 
Buid, " ahoidd ho nevor to entanfjlu ouraolvrs in tho broils of 
KurojHi ; our st*coiid, iiovor to siiffur KuroiH> to intorniiHJdio with 
('isalliintic nffnirs." Tt is si^miticnnt that ho dwolt nrnro [lor- 
tiiMilurly upon Cuba, which, by tlu' way, hn viuwod as " the most 
intorostinfj addition which could over Ih> made tu tlir Initcd 
Stotos Hystoni, but as hci was sonniblo tliat this could never bo 
obtained, oven with her own consont, oxcopt by war, and as its 
indeiM-ndenco, and o»iM'cially its indop«<ndonce of England, could 
bo aocurod without war," ho had no hositation in leaving ita 
realization to " future chances." 

Monroo ado[)tofl such of Jelferson's suggestions as were 
suitnUo for liis Mossuge, but .lotforaon's policy more than 
Monroe's has doti'rniined tho action of the rnite<1 States, and 
honco it is that tho declarations in which Monroo set out tho 
doctrine do not cover all tho cases in which .Vmericans have<l to apply it. Monroe's Mossago was, in fact, an 
attonuntion of a much farther-reaching jwdicy. In tho early days 
of tho Union tho annexation of Canada an(l Nova Scotia was a 
common theme among Amoriciin statosniou. It was a pot scheme 
with Franklin, who, after making ditl'erent suggestions during 
tho treaty negotiations with tireat Itritain, arrivo<l at the 
luminous idea of purchasing not only Canada and Nova Scotia, 
but also tho liormuda and Bahama Islands, and granting, in 
addition to tho |iurchaso money, free trade to British subjocts. Ho 
looko<l upon tho continuiince of peace as otherwise impossible, 
(louvprneiw Morris foresaw that " all North America must at 
length 1)0 annexed " ; •' happy, indeed," ho adds, " if the lust 
of possession stop there." Cuba was thought by Jefferson and 
.folin t^uincy Ailams a " natural apiicndago " to the United 
States i)OBsossions. Tho annexation of Texas and California and 
the p\ of Alaska were successive stejw in tho United States 
I>olicy for the extension of her dominions, thougn the attempt to 
purchase tho West India islands of St. Thomas and St. .lohn was 
rejected by the Senate, and a similar fate attended a proitosed 
absorption of San Domingo. 

In his Message to the two Houses of Congress at the 
beginning of the Session of 1870, I^resident Orant put the Unito«l 
States ])olicy into a form midway between Monroe's and Jeffer- 
son's views. Tho existing " dejHmdencies," ho said, " are no 
longer regarded ns subject to transfer from one Kuroj)oan I'ower 
to another. When tho present relation of colonies ceases, they 
are to beeoTne independent Powers, exercising the right of choice 
and of .self-control in the dptermiiiatioii of their future condition 
and relations with other Powers." Secretary Fish, in his rei>ort 
appended to a 8id>sequent Message of the same Presiilent, 
referred to this statement of policy as dictated by " the teachings 
of all our history," and explained tliat — 

lliis jtolioy is not a jKtlicy of iigf;res.Hion : hiit it opiHMM-s the creatiitii 
of Euri>|x'nn ilnminion on Aiiierirsn soil, or its transfer to otlier Etiropi-iui 
Towers, nml it looks hoiieftilly forwiini to the time when, hy the volunUry 
dejiarture of Kurojienn KOveinmcnts from this continent and the ailjsrent 
islandx, Anieri<'it shmll lie wholly .Vniericmi. 

In his next Message. President Grant was not loss emphatic. 
'' The time is not probably far distant." he said, " when in tho 
natural course of events tlie Kuro|H'an political connexion with 
this continent will cease." It is thus st-on that when Secretary 
Olney, in his dosjmtch of 7. ISsio. coolly oKserve*! that 
" S.tKK) miles of intervening oc-ean make any permanent political 
union between a Kuropoan and an American State minatural and 
inexpedient," he was only bringing to the notice of a British 
Secretary for Foreign Affairs a matter upon which American 
statesmen have allowed their imaginations to dwell with pleasing 
variations ever since Jefferson vaguely started his theory of 
" future chances." As Mr. Heddaway remarks, with truth, " to 

(iMtroy tha idM itiat tltor* is » Mtural ••(Mration IwtwMB 
KuroiKMUi and Amuricau HtalM is to ahaltar 'Am 

Wholv, It ia ||n|M>ll'<ii>Ie iluli.i^l I.. i.r •••.. tig 

Uoaaii. But it i» ' ,4 

eli«tricity and ste ,. ,„ ;-•< j:,.i .^ai* 

aiMl botwooii North ami South A - rather than 

w*ter SOI :in nation ft . r. 

Tile iu jwrty .> : g « di«|>aaitioa to giv* • 

"«>*■ «''" y annexing Um 

I'hilippi Iw rvooncilwl in 

theory witli tliu |M>licy , in Europwui 

|Militics, but hardly so in ; it a tloM whan 

the Kuro|>oan Powers are .ftnane* 

an«l territ<irial foothold iti : _. ..r Um 

U'nittnl Statoa, if arwl when they lind themaelvM iii' in 

European politic*, will bo allowwl to in»ut on the i ' iv 

tion of Euroiw in tho affairs of tba Amoricsii Contiti iia 

to be soon. i 


What generous miml d-M'S not tnki' i'iip<:ia| dalight in the 
story of Border raids ? Perha|>s we owe to Scott'i ina((ical 
pen a gocHl part of the glamour that now bang* ot<- ''■■• ••-•nt» 
of the catorans and moss-trcmiiuni, the Rob Roys, .. o- 

mont Willies, in whom their de«poiU<<l con' <• 

little charm. To a farmer trying torn :i 

proximity tn the Cheviots or the Highland Liin-, n. ly 

have been difficult to realize th»> d<digbt with ir» 

generations would read such ah' I's 

BoKOEK Raid.h am> Rfcivkk.h r, 

5b. n.). He was more incline<l, no doubt, t' of 

tho poet who describe<l tho thieves of Lid.' ^ id- 

eally : — 

They spulxie |Miir mra o' tbctr pack*, 
Tbey Irarr them nocttt on facJ or balk*, 
liaitb bt^u and cock. 
With n-rl ami rock, 
'rbe Lair.l'« Jock 
All with him tak». 

Vet, added the poet cheerfully, with a clear trust in Ppori- 
dence : — 

Vet or I dee 

Some shall them *e« 

Hinj; on a tree 
Whil ■•■ad. 

The wholc-aoule<l . m (as Pinkerton might hare callwl it) 

with which those " limmers " went about their buaincas is 
shown by an amusing cataloguu of tho spoil taken in n «<ncU. 
foray, which Mr. Borland prints. It inclwlea : — 

Six oxen, A kye, 4 young nowte, ane hone, a na(, a ivoni, • ><«ii 
rap, a dagger and kuiTFt, '.' spean. :; dublet*. 'i pair of hrawihss. a 
cloke, a jerkjnc, a womann krrtlr m '  . . - «f -■ .. . ■• l — '--^. J 
railes, 7 |>artlette9, .'> |>air of h ii« 

sheits: a pur* and 6«. in monie : a « ,._.._.._. j ; 

a windings cloth (!) ; a feather U^ii : a rawdroo, a paanr, 4 boKi tt 
bempe, a pair of wool cmrdi, 4 rhihlren'ii roatea, 4c., Ac. 

All was fish that came t4i the Border reiror's net ; bis only 
n>ason for leaving anything was that it wn= '•' * ' • - ^/^ 
heovy to carry. There is a well-known st •■••a 

— the s.i : 
gasing I 

passi-d oil hijt u 
cattle, turning r 
feet, ye wa<lna Isi 
in cold bliMxl, it 
men or desirable noighboura 

to the Bortler reiver and tlio H '•■'''■■"■I -^.t-rr^n ■» fi... ..i..» of 
the strongest approvers of the t« 

indubitable. Perhaps Mr. Borlao.i n&> on .mi uie • \j.isoau<'ii of 
this seemint; contradietiou when he says that B<inler reiving wma 
carried on " under cnnilitions which (i«««lop«l some of the beat 
as well as worst elements of their nature end inanhootl." Sodt 

'ly whose tower was burnt 
at a larpn " snw-ha/-ko'l 

ier!> all this 
-y estimable 
And yet the romance that cling* 

.1 i^.t^rmt t,> till. •. 



[July 23, 1898. 

• life might be oppoaed to our notions of virtue, bnt it 
•DOoarmged the growth of what tho RomanM oallud rirtu*. Tho 
nine is tme of the Highland rstorana, whoiic guiding spirit is 
•xpreaeed in some of the ntiut fiery lines that Scott ever wrote, 
whan Rob Roy says :— 

Peat in this fortn>*« of the North, 
1'hink'ft tbou «p will not tally fortli. 
To spoil the spoiler as wc lusy. 
Ami from the robber rend the prey ? 

Mr. Borland's book thus rises above moral considerations ami 
enlists the reader's sympathy with tho hanly and rude lives of 
which it tells. 

It baa been cynically said that the famous Statistical Survey 
of Scotland was the best thing that tho Auld Kirk evnr did to 
justify its existence. We are glad to see that tlio taste for 
parochial history which Sir John Sinclnir turned to such goo<l 
account a c(>ntury ago seems to be rocrudesoent among Scottish 
clergymen. Mr. Borland, who has celebrate*) the old raiders of 
his district, is minister of Yarrow. An A>Tslnro minister, the 
Reverend Kirkwoofl Hewat, has pi.blished an interesting volume 
of essays on " places and people of the past," under the title, In 
THB Olpbn Timks (Paisley : Gardner). Mr. Hewnt gossi|5s 
pleaaantly about a number of places, fiuch as Dundonald Castle 
and Croesraguel Abbey, that are interesting to Ayrshire folk and 
students of Scottish history. To the general rea<l«T his most 
entertaining pages are undoubtedly those that deiil with the sub- 
ject, never exhaustc<l for a Scotsman, of " Clerical Life in 
Bygone Days." He tells one or two good stories that are new 
to us. When the Reverend Hamilton Paul— who is honourably 
remembered in Ayrshire for having saved the Aul<l Brig o' Doon 
from demolition — was presented to the living of Broughton, he 
announced a farewell sermon to the young ladies of AjT, and 
took as his text. " And they all wept sore, and fell upim Paid's 
neck, and kissed him I " One summer a family of pood-looking 
girls had gone from Mr. Paul's jiarish to Joppa, a seaside resort 
near Edinburgh, and the Sunday after their dejMirture his text 
was, " Send men to Joppa 1 '' A lady who belonged txj one of 
the waning sects which Mr. Barrie introduced to the notice of 
the Knglish public wa-s roused from her last illness to be told of 
tho death of the Duke of Wellington. " Who was he ? " she 
Bske<1. " Was he a Burgher or an anti-Burgher ? A Burgher 
was he ? Tlien he's weel awa' ; they were aye a loose set I " 
Mr. Hcwat's book might indicate a recreation to other ministers 
with interestine parish records. 

Amongst the matters which history has taken a long time to 
de'  ' '' I- question of the old ballad. Who really won the day 
at lir ? A Scottish antiquarian, who modestly conceals 

his iia.'iiO, has devoted some pains to examining the original 
aources, and has published a learned little monograph on Thk 
BATTtr OF SiiKp.iFFMfiR (Stirling : Mackay, :{s. 6<1. n.). With 
the aid of a number of topographical sketches he lias described 
the details of tho tight between Argyle and Mar with so much 
minuteness that there is no longer room for iliscussion as to the 
upshot of the ilay. His conclusion is that of those who say that 
" nano wan at a', man." Tho generalship on both sides was 
•bout as bad as it could be, but such credit as there is in the 
matt^ir must be given to Argyle, who checked an army much 
larger than his own, though ho was unable to defeat it. Tho 
constant weakness of tho Jacobite cause is illustrat"d by a local 
tnulition of the plundering habits of the Highlanders, who 
declared that they foutrht neither for " King Shordy " nor for 
" King Hamish," btit for " King Spidzie." 

The chief value of The Uiohlasm or SroTLAM) in 1760, 
with an introduction by Andrew Lang (Blackwood, 7s. M.), lies 
in tho fart of its being the se<picl to Mr. Lang's " Pickle the 
ftpy," and that in n)OM> aenses than one. The author of the 
manuscripts in the British Museum which Mr. I^ang has n-pro- 
duoad is believed by him to lie Bruce, a " Court Trusty," who 
•ceofnpani<-<l Pickle to Scotland in 1754, and who five year* 
liefore ha<l l>een employed to sur»<'y the forfeitiKl estates in the 
Highlands. T)'-  ■^t,}, .,.,,. ,,.l>l><.'..'l l.v \|> Lang in support of 

this theory is not absolutely concliuive, nor is it claimed by him 
as being so. Whoever ho was, however, tho author of tho manu- 
scripts was a very violent anti-Jacobite and, as Mr. Lang ]iut8 
it, *' professionally a Whig." Although, therefore, it is evident 
that ho did make a very earnest investigation into the condition 
of the Highland districts, his prejudices i-oiour his nuirativo. 
As Mr. Lung reminds us — 

To obwrfent entinOy out of sympstby with rUn loyalty mid Celtic 
romance, the poorer clll^M■l^ in the Highlun>la seemed to be in a dtupermte 
IMMturc of slavery, [loverty, and iRuoraure. The population far i-xcoeded 
the means of hubsistence and the opportunities ol industry ; hence 
" thiggiuK " and tlu'ft occupied thu stalwart uiienipoyed. . . . These 
Kniclish and l.owlaml rpieii un the laud brin^ luiok troiii >cr<'ral districts 
« tale ol ai'tiiul atarvutioii, of hungry rluuHmen, and hard listed chiefs. 
What i> said about thes<' gt-ntleinen iiiakin it no matter of surprise that 
when cattle Iwcaiiu- of more acrounl than claymoiis tlin rlsmuiien were 
truate<l, in many cmen, with callouK want of couitiduration. 
But the writer of this account, whether he was Brucu or anotlier, 
was a careful, if not always minutely acctirate, observer. He is 
probably in error when ho sjieaks of tho Highlands us being able 
to raise :K0,000 nien-at-anns ; at all ovonts, those figures aro 
not borne out by the rival authority of tho (lartmoro 
^Manuscrijit. Certain of his representations of clan life have the 
apj)earanco of merciless photography, as «lien ho suys of the 
Sinclairs in Caitliness :- 

The Common I'eople are Slaves in proportion to the Distance of 
their Country from the Center of Justice. 1 have seen a Number of 
I'oor Wretrhi's oblig'd to carry out large Dunghills m Kreels or Uiiskvts 
on their Hacks, from their Landlord's Houiir to his Coruticlds, and 
Women Driru two Horses a piece loaded with Dung, carry n Kreel of the 
same stuffe on Uieir Backs, and spin at the distaff as they travel aloijg. 
The author of the narrative has hardly a good word to say of 
any of the clans. Tims he says oven of tlie C'umeroiis tliat they 

.\re a Lazy, Silent, Sly, and Kntcrprisiug IVople ; they were always 
deeply disaffected to the Iti'volution Interest and have hail a large 
share in all the Plots ami Itebellions that wire formed at the lievolution 
and ever Since. 

Thoy aro physically a contrast to tho Sincluirs- 

Jluri' than bulf of whom are but pitiful, half-starveil creatuns of a 
low Dnartisb stature, whom a stranger would hardly believe to bo 
labnbilants of (ireat Britain. 

There is not much in this narrative that is calculated to throw 
light upon the rising of the '45 or the final tragedy of 
Cullodon. What ho does .say— for example his docision 
upon the <|Uostion whether tho Macdoimlils chuigotl at Culloilen or 
not — sliould be read along with Mr. Lang's collective and iiiost 
informing introduction. That introduction, indeed, in which one 
is glad to 800 justice done not only to tiio Macdonalds bnt to 
Lochiol is of more value than the narrative itself, tho strength 
of which lies entirely in a realism which is too full of bias to be 
always tlie smiho ns reality. 


Dr. Forsyth has completed the task of editing Professor 
Cayloy's Collkctko Mathevatkai. Pai'kiib for the Cambridge 
University Press. Ton years ago Cayley commenced the gathering 
together of his iiiimeroiiB contributions to the leading mathe- 
matical journals of Europe and America. Thoy date from J841 
while yet he was a Cambridge undorgriuliiate, and were '.HXI in 
numlier when tho work of collective jmbliuition commencod. 
The death of the niasti'r at tlie age of seventy -four, while his 
fertile genius was still actively manifesting itself in fresh and 
vigorous criticism of modern mathematical research, called in 
1805 for painstaking and scholarly assistance to continue the 
compilation of these scattered treasures, and Dr. Forsyth was 
invited by tho Syndics of tho I'nivorsily Press to undertake the 
task. This task he has iierformed with accuracy aiul diligence, 
and wo have liefore us the thirteen huge volumes of mntho- 
matioal essays, reviews, and criticisms testifying to the ama/.ing 
Eeal and untiring imliistry of tho greatest mathematical intellect 
of the present century. 

Arthur Cayley was born in 1821. He was the son of a mer- 
chant in till' i^t. Petersburg tiaili', nini liml n lirotber wliose 

July 23, 1898.] 


name in familtnr a« thnt of nn nnthmtiaxtic uttidont of Ttnlian 
litorntiirii. U" <liMplnyc«l at nn i-arly uro « (,To»t likinjr for 
calruIntionH of nil kiiiiKi, nnd nt Kinjj'n Cn!!. 1 it m-m 

evidont to liin innBtor thnt hem wnn nintfi iiil <il , nmino. 

HIh juiroiitt wort) iMtrminiltMl to fu-iiil him t') C'uiuiii iil^<', bihI hn 
enteruil Trinity Colh'pn nt tliu n^o of mivontroii. All <hr<Mi;li 
hid couiMo hti will far nhcml of his contompornritMi, in 
of the tiipos in 1842 was a foregone conclimion to tli 
a nhnrn in hin training. Hin wan a calm am) (>vi>nly-l>alnnro<l mind. 
When the trifM)* list reached him he wa« starting on a night 
journtiy from London to Camlnidgo. As the night was ilark ho 
thrust the pnper into his pocket, deoi<Iing to wait till daylight so 
that ho might imruso tlm comforlahly ! Ho was Senior 
Wrangler, and came out First Smith's Prizeman later ; Sir 
George Stokea was Senior the year Imforo, and Adnma, the 
astronomer, was his successor in im:(. It wna a goldon period 
at Cambridge, and those tlueo lived to take share in fifty years' 
development of mathematical methods, anil to triumph in far- 
reaching results of their application in the domain of physical 
science and astronomy. 

Cnyley was destined for the law, and shortly after taking his 
ilogi'oe came to T.ondon to prepare fi>r the Har. Ho Iteonmo a 
pupil of Mr. Chriatie and was called in IfMlt. There was no lack 
of industry in preparation for his chosen profession, and he 
speedily ac(|uired abundant work as a specialist in <•' ' 'ig. 

Mr. ('hristie used to say thnt his ilrafts were porf. of 

stylo, nnd with his acute intellect and tremendous cupacity for 
work his success was a.ssure<l. But during the fourteen years 
thnt ho 8{)ent at Lincoln's Inn liis leisure was given invariably 
to mathematics, and some of his most romarknhlo papers were 
written <luring the stress of his legal career. He rovolutionizeil 
the study of modern higher algebra by liis discororios, thus 
described by Dr. Salmon when summarizing Cayloy's work : — 

His discoverr of the theory of inTarinntn has Rivoii a nrw niiHTt to 
scviTiil ili'piirtmrnts of mathi'iimtics. The effiot h(i« U-vn thnt the 
kimwleilge which in.illHMimticiiins now possess of the striKture <if uI((ebraio 
fnrnis is as ililTcreiit from what it was before Cayley's tlnio a« the 
knowle<lge of thi' human body posseiMed by one vho has diiM<'cte<l it ami 
knows its liiteinni structure is different from that o( one who baa only 
seen it from the outside. 

And this was the recreation of n mnn of law. He used 
humorously to assert that in law one attempted to express things 
in as many words as possible, nnd in mathematics in as few words 
as possible. Of a truth his rest was merely a complete change of 
labour. He ha<l no keen interest in sports, though ho was one 
of the early members of the .\lpine Club. 

But with each year camo the growing conviction that his life 
was not to 1)6 spent at money-making. It was a sacrifice of 
excellent prospt^cts to give up his legal practice. He had married 
in 18(W, and no doubt felt still mnre the ti-mptation to retain the 
sulMitance rather than gra.sp at the shadowy happiness of a life 
given over to unremunorative research. Fortunattdy the 
professorship of mathematics liad been founded in 1860, and Cayley 
was invited to t«ko the chair. It was not much at fir.nt, but the 
needs of the man were few. 

He knew the signal, and stepixMl on with pride. 

Scorning nun's pity. 
He gave up the law and became a teacher. Trinity College 
shortly afterwards oH'ored him a foundation fellowship, and 
from that time till his death in 1805 he gave his attention to the 
subject that suited him best. .Such a life naturally oH'enHl little 
in the way of excitement. He read extensively : most European 
languages wore familiar to him, and his knowledge of philoso- 
phical science was wide nnd deep. Ho contributt^d his results 
jieriwlically to the mathematical journals, and corresponded with 
the leading mathematicians all over the worhl. He was continu- 
ally lieing presi'Uted with the results of the investigation of 
others, nnd none could decide so well or so rapidly as he on their 
claims to originality, or on the merit.s of their work, itji applica- 
bility, or the prospect of its cxjiansion in new fields of impjiry. 
As for his own claims. Dr. Salmon rcpnrde<l him as after the 
model of the patriarch Isaac, who, when the Philistines claimed 
a well that ho had dug, went on and dug another ; and when 

1...-V cUimMl that he wf' —-' -• *»-- » T*- — »r« few who 

can jn<lg<> of hi* work. A I'tAnraa : — 



Cayley wv a nohia artiat, anil iha man kU 
his works the greo* -oin. 



mt fT.nnn, «*.), fi a little 

". HIS 


k : but ; 

> grmt 



The author t«ll 

I oa 

how he 
ir aiMl 

i ai^ak of th«> 
.. and " worn no 

The very title, Ux » 
ptiradoxioul, nnd Mr. ^ 
" lA'tters " are at lent;t . 

boat to increuaii the panulox. Tl . 
the authorship, frankly, to ^<- 
he ap|)earH as e<Iit<>r, ami th. 

left '■ ' 

to ii 

the 1 

Kiist the High Levant of our 
attraction U> and the repulsion - 
Oriental solitude. Hut it is tlie ii 
which is dominant. It is tnio i,,. 
makes strongly for the other side, 
once sat at dinner next '• ' 
woman of tho type that is • 

cluliies. " 

.\t laat I said, " It iiiay aarpriiU' 
would think, if they aaw you oo>' 
clad," and I addr'<L to try .-.nrt t^)ip 
inexcuaably rude, " • :.t 

so iminodet* n9 *o >•«' 

Mr. - 
reeountii ,. 
Malay Sultan answered a letter : 

In the cover there were three eoci..*.... 
politeness, written by a irrihe. . . . 

IllV fi'iiriil < nvv n lanii Vf>i) ft 


the ; 

shin is sealr)! in ilic 

M'ntI thia letter to ir 

iiaine, ileaignation. an<l *> 

then oontin>ie» :— •• You, 

and vara wial 

ace that rea<^ 

moon ha'l tallcii into my laj>, or I hal • -n 

grown in tho ^nlen I'allel ^ :,f 

influence of the aim's warm rays.*' 

The author comments nn thia. that whon ih<> StiltMi has par- 

chaiied n ry " Daar Sir " 

and " ^ ill " rentark with 

api ' the HTitor is a biuineas man and a Christian, and 

hnr. it all." 

.\nd, no doubt, this criticism of onr r! is wall 

justifioil. It is beside the point t" ■■•••'„, •' ,< • ~"/»n« 

and suns and ganlens, their " ha ,.ir 

" you are my father and my muvjier, aim an my kHi«;o!k," 
really mean no more than our ** Dear Sir " and " How do vou 

do? •• r • • '.of 

the East ',e 

West, and no \^ 

worth ten ti *7 

Sultan. It i.-- .mI 

that Marcel, ; ot 

v<iii in hear that ttir«- urmna 

1 are irer> ly 

■■>■ a apeach ' a as 

ottlinary rtMtiuaa «( mkttm mra 

y a text for  >, 

ixillt.'f^r^v ■,»  a 

... At 

* 1 Kir ffimtl* 





yau aie coiuiac to 

.■la.|. aa thoar>i <ha 



[.luly 2;], 1898. 

nit down on puintMl chair* or look at liia faoo in « mirror danlxMl 
on canvas. But this in hpiiide thn argiinMnt. Uraiitin^ that it 
is the haart, tlio int<-ntinii, and tlio de«<l that are of most iin- 
portanoa, we rount not ilvny t)iat in so far as maniivrs art) 
beautiful they aro also ^oo<i, ami that tlio Sultan who chIU his 
friond th«« " protoctor of the jxxir " ih so far U-tttr than thc< 
Soototuuan «it)i his " man ! " In lik<- ninnnei, the Kronohnian's 
" Monsieur lo cun! " or " men pi-ie " is U'ttor than the IVrhy- 
shire " parstin la*l." A whit<t»ashe»l wall may l)« iiioro solidly 
built and more trustworttiy than a surfact* ),;li>win^ with }{oltl and 
glory ; but it is idle to pret<-nd that whiteHatth is more lH)autif\il 
than fresco. Here then Mr. Swettonlmm is right . so far as 
manners are concerned the Kasterns are civiliiced and we are 
barbarians. It might almost l<e said that all the rest of tho book 
is devot«id to showing how hugely the ]K)Uteness of the East is 
outbalanced by other considerations : how infinitely, as we re- 
marked some time ago, the rich curiosity of the jiagoda is sur- 
paaaeil by tho pure beauty of the cathedral. In those hot jungles, 
in thoae glaring streets, the Kurojiean giows sick and sjid and 
sorry and, looking at the great scented blossoms, he siglis for tho 
qniet woode<l close, for the wild red rose ihoopiiig from the 
English hedge. The incense of the East is stifling, and in the 
la.<it analysis the " flaxen-haire<l woman " is right ; tho Kastern 
jieoplos are " savages "--comjmred, fairly and completely, with 
the Westerns. In ethics and in tho high if sthetics the Orientals 
are our inferiors, their code of right and wrong, their literature 
(with one great exception), their painting, their architecture, all 
fall far below the highctt htitndurds of the West : and thus, 
protest as ho will, the Knglishman who lives amongst the 
Easterns feels himself a sorry, melancholy exile in a liarbarous 



Dean Farrar, who has chosen to throw some excellent moral 
discourses into the form of Allegories (Longmans, (is.), w-as no 
donbt content to disregard the dictum of Edgar Allan Poe— that 
from the literary point of view allegories are only goo<l when 
one is a)>le t 'ii> allegor}*. Poe cites the example of the 

" Pilgrim's '. ." which, no douht, charms most of us as 

a tale of romantic adventure, which is written with such vigour 
and fire that not even the obvious didacticism of such names as 
Worldly-rainde<l and Facing-Urth-ways can beguile us from tlie 
pure quest of the marvellous. But Dr. Farrar has, doubtless, 
merely desiretl to give instruction in a pleasant form, and he 
has succeeded vary well. 

Bishop Barlow e's Dialogs o!» thb Lcthera:* Factioxb, 
with an introduction and notes by Dr. Lunn (Ellis and Ket-ne, 
2s. Od.), is a reprint of a treatise which, as tho editor ob- 
serves, " has fallen almost into oblivion." Ho is astonished, 
be adds, at this fact, but it is probably the case that the 
" Dialoge " will be always more interesting to philologists than 
to students of history. In his preface >Ir. Lunn draws attention 
to the two most important points connected with Barlowe the 
uncertainty that surrounds the question of his consecration, and 
bis conversion, on Mary's accession, to Roman Catholicism, which 
was the occasion of the republication of tho " Dialoge." In 
an answer to one " Nicholas," Barlowe defends himself against 
the charge of being one " deluded by ye flattcryng porswasyon 
of some worldlye persons, or olles vtterly goucn into a rciirobate 
mynde, througbe gredye desyre of yearthly promotion. " 

It is not in my power (b^ snawrrs] •' to ■(<ipi>r ye wrong<- 
•omyae, or myMe n-portr agnynit me, now cnrmy unto thcyr iTrours, 
wbjrtes tkey abase tbr saaii- to ye fr<ixli-i< nf theyr hcresye*. 

The " erronrs " here allude<l to are tho*. of th« Lutherans, 
whom Barlowe denounces with the usual ^ y. 

The " Dialoge " contains two pasbs. lally 

noteworthy, as proving that the author was in some of his 
ideas far in ulvance of his age. The first descriles the ideal 
relationship l>etween Huvvreign and people, and it was written, 
we must remember, at a period when the theory of Divine Right 

had the strongest possible hold n|>on English minds. " Ye must 
consider," says Barlowe - 

'lliat (ioil hath nut ma<le the |H'n|i|e for yv xenKUnll plosKiiri' uf 
Fryoces, goiirmours, or |irelstcs, hut hath nnli-yned them to ye weal nnd 
commodito of thi- |«o|ile. 

The second passage relates to the rights of lay people to 
" haae the new testament in englysshe." This, ucconling to 
liurlowe, is rather a mutter of uiMiUrni'ij than of right. He con- 
siders that when heresy is rife the cai-e and explanation of the 
Uospel is best entrusted to the (.'Lurch : but he atlds, " If ever 
tho tyme c<'me, as I pr.iye God it may, in whyche tho people 
shall be so good and fo godly disposed, then an cnglysshe byble 
should do (;ood 1 theyr handos." The edition has been prepared 
with conapicuouH care, tln' lepiint lieinj; iinifoi niU- <-on-.-.( mid 
the type excelle'it. 

Mr. Alfred G. Coiiipton, uutlior nl ^omk Co.mmo.v Kiiiioiis 
OF SPKEc'ii (Putnam 2s. Od.), who warns us gently anti wisely 
against " phonotMciial results" ami other common blunders, 
has an amuxitig chapter on the use of false nietni>hor : 

BecauHV (lit- sayn] the Cutholii' Italians .... allow tlioniMlvea one 
perioil of uurestraimd fun Ix-fure they bill gou'd-bye to the iihimurea uf 
the table .... the inetaplior dealer thinks two or (hivi- liuuae 
liurnings ought to In- railed a "carnival of (Ire, " an<l Imlf-a-doien 
murilers a '* carnivul of lilood," 

(hie artist in metaphor, it seems, ilescrilicd a larL'c sale in u shop 
as a " mammoth bargain carnival " ! 

A short while ago, in i-eviewing the tioinian Kmperor's 
speeches, we pointed out that " the German's forest is the 
Knglishnian's sea with a similar thrill and inspiration." The 
German, far remove*! as he usually is from sea of any kind anil 
having access, at the best, to shores which aie not romantic, 
cannot pis.silily make for himself a colourable imitation of the 
wild and legendary coasts of Corn«all or Wales, but there K(«nis 
no reason why we in England should not try to acquire the 
'• forest thrill " out of svich materials as <lisafl'orestiiig and 
common-enclosin-o have left us. Mr. Edward North Buxton, 
who has just reissULsl his Eppinc Fokest in a revised anil 
augmented e<lition (Stanfonl, Is.), has certainly done his best 
to allure the Londoner to the greenwoiKl tree, to p<'rsua<le us to 
liecome, if but for a time, woodlanders and wandeiors beneath 
the oaks ami beeches. From the practical point of view his liook 
is most usefid, containing as it does six excellent maps, drawn 
to scale, showing all the roads and livways and glades fn m 
Wintry \\ Ood to \\ anstcad Klat-s, from 'rheydon Hois to ('op|K'd 
Jfall-green. Indeed, it would be extremely dillicult to lose om^'s 
way in the forest after a careful study of these maps ; and here, 
it must lie said, is ifr. Buxton's mistake. For. if we are to 
experience the " forest insuiration," the thrill of the greenw<io<l 
and tho glade and the lonely pools, we nnist make 1 olieve. at all 
events, that our forest is trackless and illimitable, that wide 
regions of it are unchart<Ml, that it contains recesses which may 
harbour we know not what. Hero lies the Sicret of the sea's 
fascination— that it is. or appears to lie, without marks or meres 
or bounds ; and Mr. Buxton, if he may congratulate himself on 
having |ire9erve<l many an adventurous explorer from the hotel 
of the lieuutiful Star, must feel remorse in that ho has deiTived 
the imaginative of an ancient l;elief- that in a true forest It is 
Ijosaible to go " on and on " without once intruding on the 
region of the known. 

The Story ok Peri'oia, by Margaret Svmonds and Lina 
Duff Gordon (Dent, 3s. M.), is much more than a mere history 
of the famous Unibrian city which gave birtli to one of the 
great*'st masters of painting. It is more than an intelligent 
story of old Perugia and a pleasant guide-liook to the present 
city ami its surroundings, since it might stand for a typical 
account in sinoll compass of tliat strange society of the medieval 
Italian towns of the turbulent life, of the streets red with 
blood, of feuds internal and external, of Uejmblican spirit anil 
tyranny, of the echoes that came to cities perched mi lonely 
crags of the great war and tumult on the larger stage of Euro|)e, 
In Rossetti's prose story ue have read how the artist looked 
down from his window and watched the (lerce lighting of tho 
citi7,en8 lieneath, how the blooti was dashed u)i against his walls, 
and how afterwards he painted his wonderful picture. It is a 
symlsd of old Italy, all this, and, considering such a state, it 
would not l>e strange if Vasari's tale of Vaniiucci, called il 
I'rruijiiiii, were true- that in tho hour of his death he blasjihcmed 
all tho holy things which ho ha<l painted. The charming 
illustrations by M. Helen .Tames a<ld a great deal, it must be 
said, to the merit of this pleasant Iniok. 

July :i3, laya.J 



vox VERIS. 

All K-riKrimt it in Hhijm'il Elnjiitea. 

(To M. Ci.) 

Slu<, Itin lull;; Hiiii^lit for iiiiil m'glioil for in vniii, ouuliitiitron-i 

SjirinR, ill o\ir vi>: . out of ii; 

CImrioting summons tli n gato, wIm ring purtiil 

0|io», and II vision blc»t yioldii to the woncluring Wont. 

Iliph on litT crystiil t:iir k1u« troniliUm in liulryon tissiio", 
(iontly with goldun curb cliPckiiiK her cour«er» 8U[ierb 

All lior otheroal lionuty chito with Lovo'a infinite i«iues, 

Whilst this onchitntmoiit Hli|)a forth from hor sibylline lips : 

'' Herb itml tree in your kinds, froe lives of the moiintnin and 

Shoals of tho stream and flood, Hi);hts of tho welkin and wo<«l, 
Hord and flock of the (iuld, and ye whose iioimI is tho sorest, 

iSutfering spirits of mun, lo ! 1 am with you again. 

" Fear no more for tho Tyrant hoar as he rushes to battlo 

Armoured in ice, ami darts shaft aftor shaft at your hearts ; 

Fear not his flaming Ivolts that hurtln with horrible rattle 
dut of tho black inane fulminant over the plain. 

" Fear not his wizardry white that circles and circles and settles. 

Stealthily hour by hour, feathery flower upon flower, 
Over tho spell-bound sleopor, till last the pitiless petals 
Darkly in icy death stifle his labouring breath. 

" Late upon yon white height the Despot his fugitives rallied, 
Deeniiiij; its crest snow-crowned still inaccessibly frowned, 

Idly, for instant upon him my brif^ht-spcared chivalry sallied, 
Smote, and far into the north swept him discomtitod forth. 

"Therefore from root unto bolo, from bole into burgeoning 
Tendril and tassel and cup now let the ichor leap up ; 
Therefore, with flowering drift and with showering bloom- 
Snowdrop and silver thorn, laugh baffled Winter to scorn. 

"Primrose, daffodil, cowslip, shine back to my shimmering 

sandals ! 

Hyacinth host o'er the green flash your cterulcan sheen : 

Lilacs, your perfumed lam|i8 light ; chestnuts, your clustering 

candles ; 

Broom and laburnum, uphold torches of tremulous gold ! 

'■ Therefore, gold gather again from the honied hoath ami the 
Snatching no instjiiit of ease, brij;ht, multitudinous boon ! 
Therefore, ye butt<'rtties, float and flicker from n.inleii to greon 
Flicker and float and stay, settle and sip and away ! 

'■ Therefore, race it and cluiso it. ye colt.-', in the emerald 
meadow ! 

Kound your sorioiis <Iams frisk, ye faiita.xtical lambs ! 
Therefore, bird unto bird from the wavering wciodland shadow 

Pipe and plain and protest, flutter together anil nest. 

•'Therefore, yo skylarks, in xliiveriiig circles still higher and 

Soar, and the palpitant blue drench with delirious dow. 
Therefore, nightiiifjalc, lost in tho loaves, or lone on the briar, 

I'nder tho magic moon lift your tumultuous tuno. 

•' Therefore, i-ofrosh you, faint mortals, take comfort yo sorrow- 

Winning from flower and loaf courage ami cmnisol in grief, 
.ludgiiig that He, whoso handmaid I am from death to ro<iiiickon 

Year by year His earth into more oxipiisite birth — 

" Shadows tharvby U> your aoul* tbmugli what dmar and |iotiIoim 

Into what Psradiao IiImI lioicons Hi* 
Even the Huavon of Heavens, wber* (nnil, i 

Into your own shall shino, radiant with ni| 

AI-KHKIi l'KH«K\ AL i;KAV».i>. 

Hmono nt\i Boohs. 

•♦ — 

Professor Michel Bn'n, - it!, -t work, Im HimaHtiqtu^ 
of wliich I spoke in the first half of tbw article, \m 
cprtainlv • ••  - • , paget 

as if ti.i enery, 

rendered more interesting by the tinger of an ex|jerienoed 
Ruide. How different til 1 '  »l>at 

it seerneil to be when .1 . to it, 

nearly a hundred years ago, by a very eminent German 
scholar. ]' '' " ' . ' 'li-d it Seinti'-' ' \ 

very din ,1 in ninny r- •■» 

by iUt side on my table — Bely'8 " Eur-Arian Kootn." The 
name A'lir- .4 ri»«H is horrible. It is n' ' " •' n Kol- 
Arian, and is no doubt what M. I' dl an 

irradiation of Kiir-asian. Eurasian is not a very succewful 
word, but at ail event.<» it 1 ' ' ■' A in the middle, 

and it means the offsjiriti. \^ia. But Eor- 

Arian cannot mean that, for Europe is the home, not 

only of Aryan, but of Hevt-^ ' - - Aryan Ian r •■ '■ m 

Etru.«ican, Bask, Finnish, ; Hnd Ai ; a 

name apjilicahle to the ancient ^ of India and 

Persia only. Why not keep Inii— i.iu.>j>ean, or Indo- 
(ierninnic, or better, because shorter than all, Aryan? 
Aryan, it is true, is properly applicable to Sanskrit and 
/end only, but why should not the whole family be called 
by the name of its oldest memWrs — oldest, I mean, in 
their literary development? A title cannot expre« 
everything, it can only indicate, and Ary-'v :•■ -•;'•• of 
all objections, is by this time the mwt v ■<! 

technical term. 

But apart from the title, the book is sure of a good 
reeejition. It is a collection of all the .Aryan root* with 
their derivations in Sanskrit, (ireek, I. ~ <; 

Teutonic, and Celtic, and, as a cla-ss by . in 

English. The works consulted have been well choi«en, 
anil the collection lias been carefully made. ^ -t< 

a reference to an authority would have beer. m 

order to see who i^ resjionsible for certain startling ety- 
mologies, and what are the _ "t 

defended. It i.-*, of course, nm . .. .: it 

is a book to lie consulted, and it is evidently the outcome 
of many years of jmtient study. In ~ t-s 

the accents and sometimes the sign? „ X. 

There are misprint^} also, such as Anjintt for A ngim*, 
and some very i' " ^uch a* when this 

very Aiiffii''in is ; 

These are two large liooks, but there an» small Ixwks 
also on my table which may, i- ' " " " ' ' '•%- 

lets, but whicii often take ir in 

large folios. There is, first of all, a sjiecimen of a new 
translation of the .^di Granth, the sacred book of the 




[July 23, 1898. 

i>ikl)8. Why will people always call it the Grunt, and itti 

div -  ' ) 'f Niinak, the founder of tlie 

Si iie time of our Keformation. His 

object was to unite Hindus and Mahoinedans in a 
eomiuon faith, and to take the best of eacli religion in 
order to found a new Churcli, oi)en to l)otli. Hindu ideas 
seem, however, to preiwnderate strongly over Mahome- 
dan ideas. There is an English translation of the (iranth 
by the late l>r. Trump]*, a German missionary. He was 
credited with a considerable knowKnlge of the language 
in which the Granth is composed, the Gurmukhi, an 
ancient form of Punjabi ; but it seems now that his know- 
ledge of that language was as imperfect as that of English, 
and his translation certainly requires a commentary as 
much as the original. Mr. Macauiiffe, at tlie recent 
Congress of Orientalists at Paris, announced his intention 
of publishing a new translation, and he has now given us 
an important sj)ecimen of what he means to do. Having 
lived among the Sikhs for many years, he certainly 
possesses great advantages for such a task, and we must 
say that his translation, so far as it goes, is intelligible 
and reads well. 

We hojje that the Sikhs iiu-iiiMiM-.- will provide the 
necessary funds for such an imdertaking, which will 
certainly raise them and their religion in the eyes of the 
world, and throw new light on the growth of modern 
religions and the adaptation of ancient fonns of faith to 
the requirements of a more advanced society. To judge 
from the specimen now published, it seems that the 
assistance of a scholar acquainted with Sanskrit and the 
ancient Sanskrit literature would be useful in explaining 
many of the words and allusions contained in the poems 
of the Granth. 

A 8i)ecimen or two may serve to give an idea of this 
sacred book, which is certainly nearer to us than 
most of what are called the Sacred Books of the East : — 

Make chastity thy furnace, patience thy goldsmith, 
nndent inc unvil, divine knowledge thy tools, 

Fear th> . austerities thy fire, 

Dirine love thy crucible, and God's ambrosial name thy 

Ill such a true mint the word shall be fashioned. 
Tliis is the practice of those on whoDi God l'"''-" "ith an 

eye of favour. 
The Kind One by one glance makes them hapi>y. 

Make contentment thine earnings, modesty and solf-rusiHict 

thy wallet, me<1itation the ashus with which to cover 

thy iKKly. 
Hake thy Ixxly, which is only for death, thy l^eggar's coat, 

and the rule of faith thy staff. 
Hake aseooiation with all classes thine Ai Panth, and the 

conquest of thy heart the conquest of the world. 

Ho is not ovt ' ' ' ' nor is He created, 

He himself i one, 

Thry who s«rvi.-<l liiiii liavc obtained honour. 

Nknak says, Sing the praises of Him who is the treasury of 

Sing aad bear and put His love into your hearts, 
Thus aball your aorrona be removed, and you shall take 

happiness to your homes. 

Folklore, which has always occupied a large place 
in my library, is rushing in from all sides, and it is 

])articularly welcome if it comes from the hands of real 
scholars. The Jounial of the Society for Volhskiiti'le 
(folklore), part II., 1897, brings us a curious parallel to a 
well known myth of the Rig- Veda. In the Kig-Veda we 
have a dialogue between '^'ama and his sister, in which 
the brotlicr declines to many his sist»"r, because tlu' gods 
disapprove of such marriages. Ethnologists maintain 
that this shows that, formerly, such marriages must have 
existed in India also, though in \'i'dic times already they 
had ceased to lie tolerated. We now see the same theme 
treated again and again in Lituanian i)o])ular ])oetry, only 
that there it is the sister who rejects the brother, not the 
brother the sister. 

Alas : Whither shall I lly ? 

My broth»!r wants me for wife ! 

Let me (live with the duckfi 

To the bottom of the lake ; 

Never can I be the wife of my brother, 

The daughtor-iu-law of my mother ; 

I bIiiiU place my bridal wreath 

Oil the tup of the gray willow, 

On the points of the green reeds 

Shall 1 place the ring from my finger. 

Butter to lie in the lake, 

Better to be a little diiek, 

Than to beconii- tln' ilmi'litri -in-law 

Of my mother : 

Ethnologists may be quite right when they see in such 
Lituanian and Vedic fragments proofs of the former 
existence of marriage between brothers and sisters, but it 
becomes clear, from Lituanian as from Vedic documents, 
that in the Volkshmde case the marriage intended 
was that between Day and Night, or Night and Day, 
according as their names in different languages were 
either masculine or feminine. 

When folklore comes to us from Tibet, as in the 
poem of the One hundred thousand Niigas, or Snakes, 
published by Dr. Laufer, Helsingfors, 1898, we expect 
to meet with Huddliistic traditions more or less mis- 
understood and caricatured. But in their jirayers 
addressed to Nagas or Snakes, we seem to be carried 
into a lower and pre-Buddiiistic stmtum. ?Aery Sanskrit 
scholar knows how wrong it was to say that the ancient 
literature of India showed no traces of serpent worship. 
Indian literature swarms with snake stories as the 
country swarms and always has swarmed with snakes. 
But the Indian Nagas are chiefly localized in the 
North, and there certjiinly was in the North a widely- 
spread worship of snakes in the so-called Bon- 
religion whicii existed among the Bhotiya races in Tibet 
prior to the advent of Buddhism. It is clear, however, 
that in these poems preserved in Tilw-t the Buddhist, nay, 
even the Brahmanic influence cannot be mistaken. The 
names of the ser)M'nts are Sanskrit familiar to us from 
Sanskrit sources ; liut the prayers addressed to them for 
the remission of sins ami for the cure of <lisease8 breathe 
a spirit jH-cuIiar to themselves, though they remind us 
often of the hymns of the Atharva-veda. What we want 
is to discover the reason at the Iwttom of all the unreason 
prevailing in these magic formulas. That they exist 
everywhere — or, at least, in many countries — is no help 

July 23, 1898.] 




to us, unlc'Hs we tan point Id hoiiiftliin^ more itcfinite 
thnn liuniiiii nature, or the psycliolojjy of Hnvajje raceit. 
We cannot expect Knake worsliip in cinintrios where there 
are no Hnakes, nor ciui we he nurpriHed if in conntrieH 
abounding with snakes, we find the word " snake " raised 
lo the more generui meunint; of Hpiritx or even grida. 
Anyliow llierc in a new fiehl oi>en for folklorists in Tiliet, 
and we hope that Dr. I^ufer will continue his interesting 
researches. We want Tibetan scholars, not only for the 
study of the corrupt lUiddhisni of Tiln-t, but for the 
unearthinjj of what may be left of tlie civilization i>eeuliar 
to Tibet previous to IJuddhism, and not tpiite absorbed 
by it. 

The .Journal of tiie Polynesian Society, which is 
always full of interesting materials, has, in its June 
nuinbcr of 18!)7, a very curious article on the Maori (lOil 
of War, wliicli likewise allows us to see a stratum of 
thought beneath the surface of the present beliefs and 
customs of the .Maoris. The gods of the Maoris 
have generally been looked on as belonging to the 
most remote antiijuity, and their god of war was 
supposed to belong to a far more distant jieriml of 
civilization than Mars or Kartikeya. It now turns out 
that this god was bom not more than about five genera- 
tions ago, and Mr. Elsdon Rest gives us a most interesting 
biography of this divine being, though his career on earth 
is by no means ended yet. There are several other 
articles in this niiinher showing us how, up to a very 
recent period, ginls and iicrocs were made by these so-called 
savages; and if people doubt their traditions tht natives 
have no difficulty in showing the very tree, a branch of 
which, twenty feet from the ground, was just touched by 
the head of their Hercules, and is to the present day 
calle<l Te rite a lunvltdnt — /".f., the height of Kawharu, 
the subject of many of their j^pular songs. 

I am afraid that this savage literature cjin hardly 
claim, as yet, a place in this journal, thougli, thanks to 
the labours of Mr. Andrew I^ng, a widt> interest has been 
aroused in it, particularly in Englami. But it requires 
an elocjuent charmer to interest an audience in such a 
literature, and a light and fairy-like jien, which fi'w only 
know how to wield with the hand of a master. 



By a. E. W. mason. 

Ho went up thu step and lighUni the lamp. HatU'ras 
followed him and tho two m»-n facwl out' nriothcr. For a socoiul 
or two iicitlicr of them spoko. Walker was reix>ating to himself 
that this man with tlie black skin, naked except for a dirty loin- 
cloth and a few feathers on his head, was a whito man marrie<l 
to a white wife who was sleeping— nay, more likely crying— not 
thirty yards away. 

Hatteras began to mumble out his usual explanation. 

" That won't wash," interrupted Walker. " What is it ? 
A woman ? " 

" Good Heaven, no ! " criitl HatU'ras suddenly. It was plain 
that that explanation was at all events untrue. "Jim, I've a goo<l 
mind to tell you all about it."' 

" You have got to," said Walker. Ho stood between Hatteras 
and the stops. 

"I how Utis eouatry (acciiuitml inn iu ■pit*< of 

mjratilf, „ -i 

" Uut I thottghl." inturra|>t<4l Walkor,  tliat y<iu bwl got 
ovor that »iiic.t. Why, man, you ao' ni-^--- -' ' --•' ' -Tmo 
aoroM to HattiToa and aiiook bim by t' n't 

jrou undvrataud ? You ' •■ do : " 

" I know," Mid I " Itut tlMM mrm Uiiii«> ilaB|a« 

of me Umii till. 1  '«■ 

lovo of )(orr"r I w 

Uwt* of It. I'o 

nick enough at th „ ^. 

in a chair ami drow it cI<mh> t<> Walker. Hi* roicv ' . a 

I>aRsi<iiiatt) whi«iM-r, hu lockml and unlnckiMl l:i^ " >tlli 

feverish movumonta, and hi« oyv iihift4*<l aii>l . '■••d in aii 
unnatural ox< !' 

" It's li down to Holl aiul onmina np a^n ami 

war.i "  in. 

\\u. ■„, 

wont d. • 
back nm 
know it was tho ^ .at 

he broke off and L-v--.. - - s., -...„.i.^ Ui» 

head and swaying hi* body to the rhythm of the linea : - 

Qi; in rvpit unaaton 

Ik' ;au«rrrf> mana* ; 

R.V.1..1. i.u,,..,, ,.., ' •-. nib ipw 

Immemor hcu ricti: vit. 

"Oh, St " oriod Walker, and Halteraa Uugbed. 

"ForG.xl's , it :'• 

For tho words brought hack i « 

class-room with its ehipjxxl dc-. • .aed 

walls, tho droning sound of tho fi.! '• roic*, and Um 

swish of Idac bushes against the lower » .iki.... p«ue* on tmnmar 
afternoons. " Go on," he said. " Uh, go on, and let's have 
dono with it." 

Hatteras took up his tale again, and it sManatl tn Walker 
tliat tho man lircatl)e<l t' 'mI 

tho room with it. He i*, 

hun ' aug, bo 

ha.i :,,. »u>ry 

without shame, with indeed a „  ••d 

Walker no details. He related ll.i , .^U.- 

ness until Walker felt stunned and aick. " Stop," h« aaid, 
" Stop I That's enough." 

Hattv'ras, however, continued. He appemtwl to bavu forgotU>a 
Walker's proscnoe. Ho told the story to himaelf, for his 
own amuseoient, aa a child will, and hen< and thnm h« lantrhMl 
and tho mere sound of his la :ie 

to a stop when he saw Wa umI 

loadid revolver. 

'• Well ? " ho aaked. " Well ? " 

Walker still offered him the rorolvir. 

"There are cases, I think, which rndtli. : ..,. „ ..._ ....; 
man's law setmis to have providi-d for. There's your wife you aea 
to be considered. If you don't take it 1 siiall shoot you myeelf 
now, here, and mark you 1 shall shoot y»u for the sake of a boy 
1 loveil at schoid in the old country." 

Hatteras took tlio revolver in siloiioe, bud it on the table, 
fingered it for a little. 

" My wife must never know," ht- na'iA. 

" Tlieri^'s the pistol. ' ip. The swamp 

will tidl no tales. Your wit'. 

Hatteras picked np the pistol and .it^MxI up. 

" Ciood-bj-e, Jim," ho sn''i .> .t >. . . t . , t ,,., t • . r. ,^,„t^ 
and down the steps. Walk' : id 

in a little ho heani faintly, as ti k 

of a pistol shot. The swamp, . :io 

UUs. >f " is 

disappea t<> 

England. T, uit. tsdk about tlw awlf-^ 



[July 23, 181)8. 

will tho Ktigliah till* dominant raci-, and there yuu 

ini^ ^ is tlio ond of tln< storj". 

Hut iomo years Inti-r WalkiT wi-nt trud|;ing up tlic Ogowd 
riviT in Congo Kmnvaia. Hv travi>ni><l as far as WiHTmann's 
factory in Njolc Island aixl, Imvinc trsniiikcte<l liisbuNint'SB tlu-ro, 
piwhr^l u|) strtMim in the hojx' of opi<niiig thi' ii|>p<T n^aclu-B for 
trad<< |>nr|>osoii. Ho travoll<<<l for a hundred and fifty niilt's in a 
little St' iiT. At tliat |M>int Ik- strctchisl an awninp 

ovpr u « i.irkcd himself, liis Imiijo, and ci^ht blacks 

from the «U'tuiier, hihI rowwl for another fifty milus. There ho 
ran the boat's no8«> into a clay clitf close (m ii Kan villain' and 
went ashore to nef;oti8t« with the chief. 

Then- was a slip of forest between the \iiMj;e ami ilie liver 
bank, and while Walker was still dinlging the iialm creejiers which 
tapestriett it he hoard a noise of lamentation. The noise came 
from the village and was surticiently general to assure him that 
• chief was dead. It rose in a chorus of di-scordant howls, low 
in note and long drawn out — wordless, something like tho howls 
of an animal in pain and yet human by reason of their infinite 

Walker pushed forward, came out upon a hillock, fronting 
the )ialisade which close^l the entrance to the single street of 
huts, and (lassed down into the village. It seemed as though he 
bad been expected. For from every hut the Fans rushed out 
towards him, the men dressed in their filthiest rags, the women 
with their faees chalked and their heads sliaved. They stopped, 
however, on seeing a white man, and Walker knew enough of 
their tongue to ascertain that they looke<l for the coming of tho 
witch doctor. The chief, it appeared, had died a natural death, 
and, since the event is of sufficiently rare occurrence in the Fan 
country, it had promptly been attributed to witchcraft, and tho 
witch doctor had been sent for to discover the criminal. The 
villagv was consequently in a lively state of apprehension, since 
Um end of those who bewitch chiefs to death is not easy. The 
Fans, however, politely invite<l Walker to inspect tho corpse. 
It lay in a dark hut packed with the corpse's relations, who were 
shouting to it at the top of their voices on the off -chance that 
its spirit might think better of its conduct and return to the body. 
They explained to Walker that they had tried all the usual 
varieties of persuasion. They had put red pepper into the chief's 
eyes while he was dying. They had propped open his mouth with 
a stick ; they had burne<l fibres of the oil nut under his nose. 
In fact, they ha<l made his death as uncomfortable as possible, 
bat none the less he had died. 

The witch doctor arrived on the heels of the explanation, and 
Walker thought it wise to retire for the time being, since he was 
powerless to interfere. He went back to the hillock on tho edge 
of the trees. Thence ho looked across the palhade and had the 
whole length of tho street within his view. 

Tlie witch doctor entered it from the opposite end. Tlie first 
thing Walker noticed was that he wore a s<|uare-8kirt<-d eighteenth 
century coat and a tattered jMiir of l>ro<^a<led knee hreoches on 
his bare legs ; the second was that ho limped -ever so slightly. 
Still he limped with the right leg. Walker felt a strong desiio 
to see the man's fue.e, and his heai t thumped within him as ho 
came nearer and nearer down the street, lint his hair was so 
matted about his face that Walker couhl not distinguish a 
feature. " If I >» • . .^nU- ni-nr enough to see his eyes," he 

Tho witth M'H i.„ coiiimiriiiMl the procoe<1ings by ringing a 
hand-bell in front of oven- hut. Knt that methoti of det^-etion 
faileil to work. The Im-II rang stieccssively at every door. 
Walker watched the man's progress, watchc<l his trailing limb, 
aiHl began to disc4iver familiarities in his manner. " Pure 
fancy.  ho argiH^l with himwlf. " If he ha<1 not liniisil I 
shoulil Imve notici-tl nothing." 

Then the doctor took a wieker basket, covorwl with a rough 
wouflvn lid. The Fans gatherc<l in front of him ; he repeatol their 
names one afttn- tlo^ other, and at each name ho lifted tho lid. 
Hnt that plan appeared to be no improvement, for tho lid never 
■tnck. It came off renilily at carh name. Walker, meanwhile, 
oalctilat<.'<l the distance a man would have to cover who walked 

across country from Itonny Uiver to tho Ogowe, and ho rolleoted 
with somo relief that tho chances were several thousand to one 
that any man who made tho attempt, lio ho black or white, would 
lie oaten on tho way. 

Tho witch-doctor turned up his kIocvos, as a conjuror will 
do, and agiiin repented tho names. This time, however, at each 
name ho rubbed tlu^ ]iahns of his hands together. Walker was 
soi/.e<l with a sudden longing to rush ih)wii into the village and 
examine tho man's right forearm for a liullot mark. The longing 
grew on him. The witch-doctor went steadily through tho list. 
Walkor rose to his feet and took a step or two down the hillock, 
when, of a sudden, at one particular name, the doctor's hands 
Hew apart and waved wildly about him. A single cry from a 
single voice went up out of tho group of Fans. The group fell 
back and left one man standing alone. He made no defence, no 
resistance. Two men came forward and bound his hands and his 
feet and his body with tie-tie. Then they carried him within a 

" That's sheer murder," thought Walker. Ho could not 
rescue tho victim, he knew. But — he could got a nearer view of 
that witch-doctor. Already the man was packing up his para- 
phernalia. \\°alker 8toppe<l back among the trees and, running 
with all his speed, made the circuit of tho village. Ho reached 
the further end of tho street just as tho witch-doctor walked out 
into tho open. 

Walkor ran forwanl a yard or so until he too stood plain to 
see en level ground. Tho witch-doctor did see him and stopped. He 
stopiwd only for a moment and gazed earnestly in Walker's direc- 
tion. Then he went on again towards his own hut in the forest. 

Walker made no attempt to follow him. " Ho has seen me," 
he thought. " If he knows me ho will cunie down to tlie river 
bank to-night." Consequently, he made the black rowers camp 
a couple of hundred yards down stream. 

Tho night fell moonless and black, and the enclosing forest 
mode it yet blacker. A fow stars burned in tho strip of sky 
above his head like gold spangles on a strip of black velvet. 
Those stars and the glimmering of the clay bank to which the 
boat was moored were the only light which Walker hiwl. It was 
as dark as that night when Walker wuite<l for Hattt^ras at the 

He placed his gun and a pouch of cartridges on one side, a 
lantern on tho other, and then he took up his banjo and again 
he waited. Ho waiUsd for a couple of hours, until a light crackle 
as of twigs snapping came to him out of the forest. Walkor 
struck a chord on his banjo and played one of those hymn tunes 
which cad up pictures of girls singing round u piano cm Sunday 
evenings in the old country. He ])layed " Abide with me." 
Tho music went tinkling up and down the river, Imt no one 
spoke, no one moved upon the bunk. So Walker changed the 
tune and played a niolody of tho barrel organs and Piccadilly- 
circus. Ho hod not ))layod more than n <lozen bars before ho 
hoard something like a sob from the bank, and then the sound 
of Some one sliding down the day. The next instant » 
figure shone black against the clay, tho boat lurched under the 
weight of a foot upon the gunwale, and some one plumped down 
in front of Walker. 

" Well, what is it?" asked Walker, as ho laid down his 
banjo an<l felt for a match in his pocket. 

It seemed as though the wonls rousoil the man to a percep- 
tion that ho bad made a mistake;. Ho said as much hurriedly 
in trade Knglish, and sprang up as though ho would loan from 
tho boat. Walkor caught hold of his anklo. 

" No, you don't," said he, " you must have meant to visit 
me. This isn't Henley," and ho jerked tho man back into tho 
lH>llom of the boat. 

Th<! man explainixl that he had paid a visit out of the purest 

" You'ro tho witclnloctor, I suppose," sai<l Walkor. 

The other replied that ho was, and proceeded to stato that 
ho was willing to give information about much that made white 
men curious. He would explain why it was of singular advantage 
Vj iHissuss a white m.-iirs eyo ball, and how very advisable it was 

July 2:1, 18'J8.] 



t«i kill any one you caught mnkiiiK Hung. Tlio i1iin((er t>f |)M«in(i 
near a uotton-tii'ii whiili liml ruil (>iki tli nt tlio niot* proviiltNl a 
aulijoot which no priulunt man would iliiroKitril ; and Tiindo, with 
hit driver nntii, wiiH worth unnfiliittin^'. Wulktir ropli«<l tlint it 
W08 very kind of the witcli-doct'^r, liut Tandodiiln't really worry 
him. Mil wan, in fiict, very much more worrieil hy nn inniiility 
to iindorBtiinil how 11 niitive tm hi^li up tliw Ogow^ Kivcr hail 
limi-nod to dpniik tnule Kii^lixli. 

The witch -doctor wiivod the i|ii«stion niiide nn<l rnnmikinl 
that Walkor must hiivu tmomius. " I'uHHim Ixid too much," ho 
unllcd ttixni. " I'liKKini woh-wnh. liernth well ! Ah ooiid 
frriind Ki'iiii-Kriiu and dom puHnini die one timi>." Walkor could 
not reoolleot for thn momunt ony '• puNiim " who he wi»liod to 
die one time, wliuthor from grand Krau-Krau or any other 
diiiease. " Wait a hit," he continued, '• there i« one man - 
Dick Hattoras I " and ho struck the mat<Oi suddenly. The witch- 
doctor stiirtod forward us though to put it out. Walker, hoWHver, 
had tho doi>r of the lantern open. He spt the match to the wicic 
of tho lump and dosod thn door. The witch-doctor drnw hack. 
Walker lifted tho lantern nnd slmno it on hia face. The witch- 
doctor huricd his facu in his hands anil tupportod his elhows nn 
his knocH. Immediately Walker darted forward a hand, 
seized the loose bIcpvc of the witch-doctor 'a coat, anil slipped it 
down his arm to the elbow. It was the sleeve of the right .irm, 
and there on the fleshy part of the forearm was the scar of a 

" Yes," said Walker. " Ky God, it is Dick Hatterns ! " 

" Well ?" cried Hutteras, taking his hands from his face. 
" What tho dovil made you tum-tum ' Tommy Atkins ' on the 
banjo ? Diimu you ! " 

" Dick, I saw you this afternoon." 

" I know, I kaow. Why on earth didn't you kill me that 
night in your compound ? " 

" I mean to make up for thiit mistake to-night." 

Walker took his riAe on to his knees. Hattoras saw the 
movement, leaned forward cjuickly, snatched up tho rifle, 
snatched up tho cartridges, thrust a couple of cartridges into the 
broech, and handed the loaded riflo back to his old friend. 

" That's right," ho said. " I remenibor. There are some 
cases neither God's law nor man's law has quite made provision 
for" And then he stopped, with his finger on his lip. 
" Listen ! " ho said. 

From tho depths of tho forest there came very faintly, very 
sweetly tho sound of church bells ringing— a peal of bells ringing 
at midnight in tho heart of West Africa. 

" It's no fancy, Jim," said Hattoras, " I hear them every 
night and at matins and at vo.ipers. There was a .Jesuit monastery 
hero two hundred years ago. Tho bells remain and some of the 
ch)thes." Ho touched his coat as he spoke. " The Fans still 
ring the bolls from habit. You think of it ! Every morning, 
every evening, every midnight 1 hear those bells. They talk to 
mo of little churches perched on hillsides in tho old country, of 
hawthorn lanes, and women going along them to church. Go<l 
help mo ! Jim, have you got an Knglish pipe ? 

" Yos ; an English briarwood and some bird's-eye." 

Walker handed Hattoras his briar-wood and his pouch of 
tobacco. Hatteras filled the pipe, lit it at the lantern, and 
sucked at it avidly for » moment. Then he gave a sigh and 
drew in the tobacco more slowly and yot more slowly. 

" My wife ? " he asked at last in a low voice. 

" She is in England. Sho thinks you dead." 

Hatteras nodded. 

" There's a jar of Scotch whisky in the locker Iwhind you," 
said Walker. Hatteras turned round, lifted out the jar ami a 
couple of tin cups. He jioured whisky into each and handed one 
to Walker. 

" No, thanks," said Walker. •■ I don't think I will." 

Hattents lookcil at his companion for an instant. Then ho 
emptied deliberately iKith cups over the side of the boat. Next 
he took tho pipe from his lips. The tolmoco was not half con- 
sumed. He iKii.sed tho pipe for a little in his hand, ihen he 
blew into the Wwl and watched the dull nil glow kindle intvi 

h<' t.. 

Ill* M^lltl , nil' 1 

■(Mirkii of Hanio aa In- 
ngainut the thwart of the Uxtt uii 
a hiu into tl... « >!. . M.. I. 
«too«l up. 

" Hu long, Ill 

Walker tuniiMJ the luntwrn until lb' .ti 

tho iNtnk. 

" GoutUliye, Jim," mid Mntt'-m*. niid ho plimlml np Qm 
blink until he stood in t' "r 

ruiMHl his riHii to liin -< 
romemliereil that HatttintK ui 

" <}oo<l-byi<, Dicky," h' ii 

down to the iKNit xidii. Tho Muck* down riviir wc 
the shot. Wulkur nhouttxl to thoni tu utay where thi-> -■.• . ..,,., 
as soon iis their camp wan i|uivt ho st«ppo<l on nhor*. Ho Ollail 
up the whisky jar with water, tietl it to llattonu' ' ' ' ok 
his hand, ami pushml the IxMly into the river. Th« ti' i^ 

ho started Imck towards Fern.iii V^r.. 


With th.' 1,, 

raw tourist bi . ., 

and the old Imud colU up lii a 

thoughtful review in full m ,.y 

toko their pleasures mp' me to accom(«ny Un-ni, amiMt 

with all the available m 11 about the chonon siiot. \nit 

ladies are so leame<l nowa<lay« that they will only taka the 
best information in the market. Hence the riae of tho ompir* 
of the guide-book. Mr. Grant Allen announces, aa if he were 
tho first to make tho disci ' .t your p- 1 ' ' ' ' k 

" will treat of the history a; n of the 

as that is visibly represented in its uxiating (atric 
claims his desire — 

To fight ng.i \u 

tbr light of a t.i . ,, a 

firiit-nttu polo gtouiitl , wiUt Uiu I'^raiut.l*** tittriuWfttmn (ur  girantir 

Or, again— 

(iive people a story of hu'i-   • 

with his u<u.\l originality an.l « 

aruuik^d. Put a «oul into Ih" 1 : ... . i;,» 

average man aa you couM nry (e him UII 

iiiiilnight about the tbapes of |ii ,«. 

All this may be very true- -indeed, with moeh of it «• 

heartily agree; but Mr Grant Allen U ..-er ho 

imagines himself to be, as Mr. Septimus R J M. 

Dent could toll him if they care<l. He is at ; «• 

ever, in helping to put into the trn»e!!«T'>i ' iji 

better than he has hitherto l>ecn ] • ve 

young person who is floored at t y 

"allusive " (laragraphs, by datfs ciin\ .-a 

that are a sound, will be grateful to ai.. . . _;od 

cUtroHt who will impose the limitatioivs of his taate upon her 

own rague wanderings, and even ruthlessly i'> - • '- — -he 

face of nature all which is unfortunate oU' 1- 

mark of his high approval. There are those wn. • .0 

copious printing of ({Uotations from a vi' y 

topography may b. I with a literary cho: ;a 

existence to the ' vee IVrnk. sml it« ;o 

University Extenaioiiisl-s. ('• a t|,« 

shrine of History, an<l take •■ At aro 

not accurate surveys of a or a nij. or in 

information that is not tli , . t of a ni «■ ript 

uncarthetl from provincial archives hy a scholar of t m 

Chintrt. But your eTer-to-lie-ab«i80«l p<T^>'v "'i'- • .,1- i,,..,. " 

is still left discontentod. 

Not only tloes he want to know his ":iy :ii>'";i. i> r ' ' ' ,■» 

to im|>«rt t<> less audacious friemla at home the i is 

ext«'nde<l enterprise in rturietl clime.s. He •.. ..e 

•UK'S not understand, iri>cto<l for men he iia.s f. 



[Jwly 23, 1898. 

to earry on the dotaiU of an existence which he ha* never 
been able to inugine. Your medieval chiXt«)au is but a 
purpoavlmw miiinna, a labjTinth "f n«eli>s8 loopholiHl imswi^^vs 
ooi  and cheerl' ^ ; yt)ur cntliodnil, a 

BUT . iro or ItMK «•! * decorated trunks and 

intarUcinf; )>:.::'-. with here and there a glimpse of li^ht 
through paii»ti--l [.iins set in a frame of Bt«)ne. Obviously, 
ther« ii no architectural text-b<iok that shall answer these 
insistent problems. For the ideal architectural ImndlMiok is as 
far to seek as the ideal g\iide. Yet if an\-thin); that can Iw of 
real service can be ]iacke<l up and rtMtd on the sjiot, it woul<l l>e 
•ome bo^k that in a few brief, tintechiiicul and luiostentatioiis 
chapter-  the fundamenUil jirinciples of architec- 

ture, ail'  m from a few typicail examples chosen out 

of eTery coimtry with a style peculiar to itself. 

There is a 8»>rie8 of small and cheap ecclesiastical monographs, 
e<1ited by Messrs. Gleeson White and E. F. Strange, and published 
by George Bell, Is. 6d. each. Of these, theCiu-BcH OK St. Maktix, 
Oaxtebbi-by. by Kev. C. F. Routledge, is now before ur.. Hero 
wms the cradle of purely English Christianity, the one spot which 
oortainly knew the presence of St. Augustine, celebrated 
ju-' t the 1,300th anniversary of his coming. Recent 

ex[ have revealed still more than has been known 

before of a history that poes back to the dawnj of constructive 
Christianity. Mr. Routledge tells a pood deal of his own story, 
bnt is far too " sngijestive " for the usually iffiiornnt traveller for 
whom he really writes. Hkrefoud CATHKt>BAT.,by Mr. A.H.Fisher, 
is in the same series. The lovely cloisters and the exquisite 
transitional work of Bishop William de Vere (about 11001 are 
enough to inspire «ny writer, and Mr. Fisher is wise enough to 
draw the attention of his readers to detailed carvings like the 
(rargoyles he has several times sketched for our delight. Yet 
even here you miss the broad general principles that should 
explain the whole. The various monographs that exist on 
kindred subjects are more for the study than the knapsack. Tlie 
name of the learned Dean of Ely, for instance, is suflicient 
guarantee to scholars of the value of his Handbook to thk 
OATHnnRAi Chvbcm OF Ely (Tyndall, Is.). But Dr. Stubbs 
i« a trifle too austere. We should have like<1 more charming 
details like the ''Wolf holding St. Edmund's Head," and wo 
must ••onffo* t-o a confusion of mind in trying to grasp the 
de- -cnce of a very comi>licato<l mass of archi- 

tect i slowly throngh very various ages. 

This book suggests the many other monographs on cities, 
even on districts, that, while deserving a more ponnancnt refuge 
and n-putation, are yet of the nature of the guide-book. Mr. 
Grant Allen's Paris, Flokexce, and The Cities of BEL<:it'M 
claim frankly the attributes of the guide ; yet they have 
sul' 'I value and sufficient jiersonal insight to raise 

thci i<T pHne. Publi.slie<l by Mr. Grant Richards, 

theae books (and t of the scries) a-ill supplement Murray 

and " Baedeker" i . lligent comments of a travellc^l i/i/«'/- 

tanl* ; aixi, if you have faith in your prophet, there will be few 
greater pleasures than carrying him with you. For ourselves, wo 
canont repoae implicit confidence in a neurone who says hanlly 
anything of Waterloo and far t<jo much al>out Van Eyck. 
WoLrr.-LAM> (Boechings, Od.) is a sym;>athetic little handbook 
to ' " ' "rii to notoriety lien 

in • !■». Its pages are 

w«-: iKOKi) (Stock, Is. 6d.) is 

an ' nd historical sketches, whose 

han<liwork (e ntand binding) betrays the tjisteful archip- 

ologist. For •., . farther afiehl, Mr. T. 11. Wilson's H.ixnv 

Gi'lDR TO NoKWAT (Stanford) has just reache<l its fourth (xlition 
to inform the appalle<l " old timer " that the Siistersdal has had 
a railway built through its heart. Tliey are slowly killing the 
old Riiga<line in the •aim- way ; : ' ' als that have blackened 
tho road aa far as Thiixit an' p to f^t. Moritx its<df. 

Bti*  nta we may !■«• Mid 

the  travel in N i, in 

ma: :»t not > n :><) per 

cent  voars. icd with 

good advice about glaciers, climbing, fishing, with skeletons of 
history and maps hero and thor«< on the way. The .SwEnisii 
Toi i:iN<: Cli ii'.s (ii)nK to Swekes (Philip, fw.l has d«uie as much 
for Sweden, and has a c.mhI map ; but " Baeih'ker " gives you a 
far bettor view of its history. Indeed, the "Baedeker" volumes arc 
far better serve<l in this way than is usually supposed ; and the 
sketch of the Constitution of the United States in that series is 
one of the hont jirintod anywhere in so few pages. Copeshaoen 
(Simpkjn, Marshall, 2s.) is the last publication sent to us on these 
Scandinavian lands. It is i88ue<l by the Danish Tourist Stn-iety, 
and is not much more than a cheap directory, illustrated, and 
characteristically decorated in colour. 

With Mr. Norway's book, " Highways and Byways in Devon 
and Cornwall," which we reviewo<l the other day, you may safely 
take Mr. A. R. Hope MoncriotT's Coiixwall and Devonshikb 
(2s. M. each) in your travelling bag. They are ]>art of Messrs. 
Black's largo scries, and, considering the vast amount of country 
each essay is to cover in so small a space, the work is fairly well 
done. The quotations from Kingsloy arp actually refreshing ; 
for if Scott made Perthshire and Blackniore created the Doone 
Valley, no less i.s Kingsley responsible for Appledore and 
Bideford, even for much of (piaint, <lolightful Clovelly, Wo 
have our own quarrel with !Mr, Hope Moncrioff for making all 
these ]ilacos too easy of access to the ^fndding Crowd, but the 
majority will bless him ; and no doubt it was for that majority 
that in the County of Hye and Winchelsoa, of Pcvonacy and 
Hurstmonccaux, of Lowes and of Chichester, he begins his book 
on SissE.\ (in the same series) with many pages on Breezy 
Brighton, and ends it with Glorious Goodwoo<l. Mr. Moncrieff 
tells you, however, of the Griiding Gibbons at Petworth, and 
gives his last nine lines to Bosham ; and for those small mercies 
we are grateful. By the fame indefatigable author of "Where to go 
Abroad," Messrs. Black publish other volumes on Svbrey (28. Od.) 
(apparently devoted chiefly to cyclists), on Bv.xton and the 
Peak (ls.)(which will bo hailed with joy by " gtmty sufTercrs"), 
on Maii.ock, Doveiiaie, and Cknthai. Deuiiv.shike (Is.), on 
BoiKNE.MovTH AND THE Nbw Fobest (Is.). hi tliis last, Mr. 
Moncrieff cries out that " tho trail of the tripper is over it all." 
Surely no man ever had so many trippers on his conscience as Mr, 
Hope Moncrieff himself I We must not forget that Buiohton (Is.) 
claims a monogiaph to itself, and S<-oTi.Asn (Ss. Od.) is extremely 
well done, with pretty pictures and very valuable maj>s. The little 
red Scries of guides issued by Messrs. Ward, Lock (Is. each), are well 
illuBtratcd, anil their light and handy sha|>e cimtains far better 
print than is usual in these publications. Among those, 
ToBQUAY, Paioxton, AND DARTMOUTH Bro treated in one 
volume: some excellent majjeare given for Oban, Fokt William, 
AND THE Western Hhjhlaxdk; goo<l photographs are reprtHluced 
in Lkk'Estek a>"ii Warwk k. Other volumes are the Isi.k ok 
Wkiiit, Ii.kraco.mhe and Barnstai'lk and an unnecessary 
book on Paris which fails because it tries to do too much. 
Of " Baedekers " this is no place to sp-ak. Their UKofulness in 
their own sphere is proved. Thi' third edition of tho Soitii East 
Fkaxik (OS.), including Corsica and Provence, is well brought 
up to dat<'. The fourth edition of Koyit (lf>8.) has Iwen carefully 
remodelled, and contains admirable maps, plans, and explana- 
tions of hieroglyphic inscriptions. Now Messrs. Cook announce 
that tourist excursions may be made to Dongoln, while Mr. 
Cecil Rhodes is only waiting for Sir Herbert Kitchener's advance 
to run a line from the ('n]<o right into Cairo. Egypt will soon 
have no more secrets left. Tliere is a quite new volume on 
Spain ami l'oitTV«;AL (10s.), excellently done, with which we recom- 
mend a course of Bori'ow, and ,Faccaci's admirable "Trail of 
Dun Quixote " with Vierge's drawings. Tlio history is as well 
done as " Bnwlekor " always loiids us to oxiioct, 

Quito a different class of guides is the series of Handbooks 
FOB Ci.i.MiiKKs is<<ue<1 by Messrs. Fisher Unwiii. Very small, very 
oxpi'tisive, very compact, and very goo«l, these excellent little 
books reflect the virtues that should 1>e found in every real 
climbc-r's kit of necessaries. Each is fitted with a pencil and 
s|iace for sj^cial notes ; the binding is strong, neat, and work- 
manlike. Instructions are clear and torso, meant for the 

July 23, 1898.] 


|«x]iorieticn<) hand, and not ov«rbur(1uiiiHl with cniitioriH tu tho 
1 tyro. Kufcroiioos nro givuii to lni(;«r HtHiiihin) worktf in which 
every gul>j«ct oiin ho moru thoroughly Ntiidiotl iit honm, while 
just thuso hinta uro given in the books thunisidvuit which can 
easily be broiiglit out und vuritied on the march. Tho maim are 
1 clear, accurate, and frwi from UReloHn detail, and " no knn|i«aok 
' should bt< without thum." Thk Ckntiiai. Pknni.vk Ai.I'h, Tub 
E.isTKHN I'knnink, uud TiiK Lki'o.ntink Ai.p.s oru doni) by Sir 
Martin Conway. Tim C', Alts i>k D.viriiiNif. .ncribud 
by Mim.'<rN. Ooolidgi', Duliuinul, and I'orrin. Mr.' lone is 

rosponHiblo for tho Adulu Aljis and tliu Ti><li Idih I . I.oiiia 

Kiu/. gives the benolit of twolvd suniiiiern' ruseiircli uihju thr Mpot 
to luM hook on the chain of Mont lllnn<\ Ah will bu nooii, the thing 
is donii thoroughly and done well. We rather hoi)e<l for a volume 
for tho ladies from tho uxperioncod (ion of Mrs. Main, who seeni.s to 
climb with a nib on one end of hor al[)onstockandaphotiigru|>hic 
camera on tho other, and boa left few of the best SwiHs iwaks 
unconi|uuri'd. But of all those books there is one that lia.s iihvjtys 
hold, and will continuo to hold, a uni.jUt! |)osition, und that is 
•■ Bfill's Alpine tiuid<i." Of this mauntnineuring cliissic, tho 
volume on Tuk Wkhtkhn Alps rciippoiirs, revised iin<l recon- 
structed for the .\lpim« Clubby Mr. Coolid,';.' (Longmans, V2n. n.). 
No litter monumunt, after tho death of Mr. liiill, could have lieon 
conceived to the memory of his accurate and strenuous work 
upon the heights than this larger version of his l>ook. There is 
more in it, and tho older matter has l«on thoroughly brought up 
to date. The maps are alone an extraortlinary piece of con- 
scientious and skilful draughtsmanship. Climl)ers who ar« 
anxious to go still farther aheld will soon have in their hands 
the record of -Mr. Fitzgerald's magnificent expedition on 
Aconcagua, the summit of which hn.s already boon publicly 
do8cril)e<l by Mr. Vines, its hapjiy con<|ueror, who was a memlwr 
of the expedition. Travelling tliat was once the privilege of few 
is now tho inuiisputed right of many. The weary bu.«iness man, 
whose only relaxation was once a trip to well-known holiday 
resorts in his own country, can reach medieval European rhdteatix 
on the evening of the day he atarteil, or see the next sun rise 
" silent upon a peak " in Switzerland. Much as " that 
alphabetic engine called tho Press" has spread veneers of 
knowledge broadcast over the working men who furnish 
forth our food, so tho locomotive engine that wo know 
has brought within reach that hurried sight of history, and 
monumont.s, and peoples with which is composed that 
veneer of culture called " e.siKsrienoo of foreign parts." 
The guide-lKiok has felt this change as much as anything else. 
We have just cast a rapid glance at many of the siH'cies. Of 
them all, the Alpine guides are, |M>rhap8, those which know Ix'st 
what work they have to do, and do it in tho clearest, simplest, 
most agreeable form. But wo are not all climbers. And for the 
sedater seeker after pleasures in a country not his own, the ideal 
Iviok is yet to seek. In desixiration of its ever coming into 
being, some have striven to console themselves with voyages 
round their chambers ; yet introsjioction is a sorry change for 
travel. Kvcn though on alien seas his minil remains the same, 
the traveller is more often as anxious to escojie himself as to 
tly from his native fogs. Ho asks not only now material for 
thought, but a new thinker, too : and for such as he is are the 
new series that Mr. J. M. Dent and Mr. Grant Richards and 
Mr. Kivington are devising. They are a recognition of higher 
ideals for which every thinking man will be grateful. Thoy 
deserve success becavjso they are on tho right i>ath, and if thoy 
have not yet attained perfection they are, at least, eilucaling up 
tho tourist to a faint idea of what ]«rfection may bo. 

Concerning Isabel Carnaby. My Ellen Thomey- 

Croft Fowler. 7\ s5in., ISMI pp. Londnn, l.'^'S. 

Hodder & Stoughton. 6,- 
Miss Fowler, who is already favourably known as a not too 
minor poet, dedicates this book, which is, we believe, her first 
novel — 



and ; 
for t ! 
of Sumo ' 
have btwii 

IS fault«, ia singularly 

often not ..•. •■-ii. ".• 

humour, but Mina Fowler hu 

in additi'T ' - H!«iiaa« niucii ] 

range of ^ 

Many « 1 1 : 
Thev are at b' 

.iH-h iii»4i n H 1110 

II I* 

urn of 


tlie Hev. .Mark beatim, a .Mutii 

obliged owing to ill-health t't " r 

|>ay, and of his home full of simple culture ; an.: 

time she is <|uit« ciual to {tortrayiug Uio utt<«lv ...... .. ... ^ . ,-., 

both culturetl and uncultured, tu bo found in " smart " country 
houses, and to hitting utf with little or no exaggeration their half- 
silly, half-cynical converiation. For instance : - 

" I am goiitK to write an articbi for t 
educatiuu — a sort of u|ii).>Hitu>n Attop t«i 31 

 : Caniaby. •• Tl.> n 

|M>iiit of riew a I 

1 :-•■:: ..,■-.- 

t<» in 

buiog the iK^rfcrt nuiiiticr, }'i>u know. " 

"A i-apital'u, Diy (teju- youDS Uily," Hii>l ilt. K. - 

graciiiiinly. Inubel aliray* aniuae.1 bim. " i^boald jrini arecl »|»rial 
scliool.t for tlie iMirpuiH', uiay I aak ? " 

" Yea, gorgrous te.l ami white palac-a, lik. I 

tbry would h. ralU-d ' Higbeat Urade 8rb»ulii,' ^.i. - ...I 

thi'in iryai'lf." 

" Au<l un one bt'tter qualiSol. la it imi»Ttinmt to ask if yov wouU 
coBibiue the ofiiee of object witb that of ia*' 

" Not nvceaaarily. Of ri>ur>i< it ia I ..« tn f»)l ia )<nr<i> 

with me than *i' 
tb.m Icaa. But 
but 1. 
in I.. 
from 1 u' . <>.. 

" I itbou).! 1 

** it is mon? thau i  «. « — „ ...„ 

—it includea all the extras, and a year 'a flniahinf abroad iato tb« 
l«rgain. " 

I«al«l ahook ber hra<l. . . 

This is enough to show that the goo<)-huinouro<l give-and-take of 
such conversation is within Misi> Fowler's range. By way of 
contrast, or perhaps of complement, may be qiiotod the paaaag* 
with which the book ends : — 

I'aul t' ;   L ., 

to what in « 

wholu lumi' "I 
calla beauty, ai^: 

.lid- 1 

be aaid : 

' I should rail it 

Fowler does not often btioff 


To «lo her justice. Mi: 
allusions to sacred things. H 
kind, which a somewhat wich 
and human laughter, fo>t 
of Isaliel Carnaby is tl. 
I : she is n 

The .'hnr:iet«r o: » 

not I on in ti 

with ; I t, tho roni' 

carries the prox.pts of his religious training out in real i 
the bittor disappointment of his opulent and ambitious fai..c.. 
Miss Fowler has not escaped one pitfall. She has made Paid, 
evidently without meaning it, a oonaiikftible prig. Hia Oxford 



[July 23, 1898. 

r, too, ia wMkkl y iiescribe<l. He bccomea uuptain of his coUt-gu 
boat club AStouiahingly early in liis o»r«or, aii<l wo havu yut to 
meet Um nndergnuluate who lialntiially siwhIch of " boating " 
triiea he meMtn " rowing " or " tho rivor." Miss Fowlor's 
noet oonspiciioua failure is Mrs. Martin, a rich Mothotlist 
Tttlgari&n, whoso conversation is incrvtlibly offensive. With all 
ita fault* and in spite of its curiously cluinxy titlo, " Con- 
oaraing Isabel Carnaby " is a rcniarknblu l>ook, and atfords pre- 
sumptivu evidence of a power which may easily carry the 
author far. 

Tub Actob Manaokb, by Leonard Merrick (Grant Richards, 
6a. >, ia evidently the work of a man who knows tho stsp*. We 
ahoold have felt warranto*! in sayiiip thatovon if it had not boon 
announced by tho piiblishor as the work of an actor. Tho know- 
ledge shown, in fact, is so acoiirato and extensive as to raise the 
queation whether an excessive familiarity with his subject aii<l 
Ma diaracters Aiay not be, in some measure, a disqualilication to 
the writer of fiction. Just as a Chiurchman often has a clearer 
conception than a Nonconformist of what constitutes tho Dissi- 
denoe of Dissent, so the playgoer rather than tho player is tho 
man who can thoroughly appreciate" the staginess of the stage. 
The Fotheringay, Crummies. aiKl MissSnevclicci are almost the only 
actors and actresses who really live in fiction ; and the value 
of the picture of each of these immortals results from the fact 
that it IS drawn from a pt)int of view very dirt'erent fnmi their 
own. Described from their own point of view, they would bo 
infinitely less amusing, without being in any essential respect 
more real. That is what is the matter with Mr. Merrick's por- 
traits of actors and actresses. In a certain sense tliey are sufli- 
ciantly faithful portraits ; but there is something wrong with 
the perspective. The author can, it is true, bring out the 
"  ■' of an actor or actress when he chooses to <lo so ; 

bi.. , chooses to do so in the case of characters whom he is 

holding up to obloquy. His hero, and the la<ly whom his hero 
loves, though they have been touring in the provinces for years, 
behave and talk as though they liad just 8teppe<l out of a suburb 
in which they wore the ornaments of a literary and scientific 
institute. To a certain extent tho novel seems to have a 
purpose, an<l that purpose appears to be the elevation of the 
stage. The author — if he expresses his own views in the utter- 
ance* of his " s\-mpathetic " personages — takes the stage so 
••rionsly that the popularity of farcical comedy is a constant 
thorn in tho flesh to him. Ho also makes it clear that ho believes 
the Independent Theatre to be the centre of the literary and 
artistic life of London, and says a gieat deal a)>out the place of 
acting among the arts, which he will get no one but an actor to 
agree with. His style is fluent without being distinguished ; 
he makea a little plot go a long way ; and it is rather as a 
picture than as a drama of life that his work demands attention. 
The performers, who confuse advertisement with fame, are 
aatiriz4^<l se%-erely and etfectively. 


For speaking to-<tay by way of a change — a marked change — 
of Prosper Merimi'e. tho two admirable volumes lately published 
by M. Augustin Filon offer mo the hujipiost occasion. Yot I 
roust none the less not tuko time for admiring tho art with 
which the author, treating his subjot^t firstly and secondly— in 
the latter case, after an interval of four years- for the brilliant 
series of Hachetto's Grands Kcrivains Fran^ais has kept the 
two fortn* of hi* service distinct and manageil, on repetition, to 
be just different enough. Kuch a feat is especially remarkable 
with a subject not yielding space for wide evolutions. Mdrime* 
nay be one of the immortal, as tho immortitl nowadays go, but 
h» is not one of tho infinite. My i^onceni with his biographer, 
however, is mainly a matter oi i« for being just turne<i 

•gain to the man himself and t' revival- u romendirance 

infinitely agreeable— of an old literary love. That one should 
ever have "loved" M<<rim^ seems ]>crha|>s odd, but that, at 

any rate, is tlio light in which I like now to recover oagerneas of 
early appreciation. It was definitely rekindled, tliis memory, 
by M. Filon's other volume, the Mtrimfi- <l »<•» -Ihh.i, which 
perhaps implied a promise of richer revelations to conio tliitii the 
conditions of a " torios " propi>rly {lermit. M. Filon bus all tho 
air — the graceful, enviable authority — of a conscious de|)o8itary, 
and may, for all I know, have still a card or two up his sleeve. 
There are conspicuously several cards — precious grouiis of 
unpublished letters —yet to be played. But nu-anwliile there is 
plenty of interest in those alroiuly on tho talilo. 

Merinvee is a writer— and, more generally, a personal figm-e 
— singularly provoking to tho critical sense, oven though he be, 
in the nuitter of expression, not by any means of the family of 
the many-sided. Limited and hard, he yet uti ects us as complete — 
which is imrtly, doubtless, because he was in the worldly way a 
success, and led his life much as ho chose. Though ho is su))er- 
ficial, he makes us wonder how he is put together. That, at all 
events, I i>erfectly recall, was his action, years and years ago, on 
a reader barely ailolescent and not of tho writer's own race. This 
sensitive spirit found itself, one unforgettable suuunor's day, 
fluttering deliciously — ipiite as if with 'a sacred terror--at the 
touch of Aa Venu» il'llle. That was the first flush of a sentiment 
destined to last for many a year and of which the ashes are not 
even at present completely cold. 1m Venus il'llle struck my 
immaturity as a masterpiece of art and offered to the young 
curiosity concerned that sharpest of all challenges for youth, the 
challenge as to the special source of the efl'ect. It may in these 
days soiHid monstrous, but there are rea<ler8 who, while still 
schoolboys, womler more even how the thing is done than how 
the tangle will couu» o»it. With MtSrimee it always came out, to 
the {>ai-ticulur attention I speak of, as sharp as a pirate's blade 
or an Indian torture, and that was quiUi enougfi. So every- 
thing else in another volume — the volume was Culntnba, tho 
product of the imagination by which Merimeo mainly lives- 
contributed to show. It brought home as nothing else had 
dune— for prose, fur the life of our time — the lesson of a 
mysterious selection and concision. M. Filon very happily 
compares these things — Merimt^e's tales and dramatic morsels in 
general — to the neatest medals, and it was doubtless, though 
then unnameable, just a (mrt of the glad imprussitm that, as one 
handled them, tho hard bronze pieces seemed to rattle together 
and click. The poison of the " short story'' was evidently in 
one's blood when Tamamju, MoUcu Falcone, L'Juilrrrmciit i/c la 
Jieduutf had the magic of an edge so fine and a surface so smooth. 
There is a pleasure at last, however this l>e, of noting any 
obligation of the awakening intelligence, of picking it out of the 
dust-heap of the years. The very young person I sjieak of 
Buppose<l it to be of great artistic profit to translate tho first 
two of the stories just mentioned and offer them, for insertion, 
to an illustrated weekly periodical, tio long ago struck, for 
him, the hour of precarious ap|>i!als. He can see at this moment 
the rejected MS., cast at his feet again by the post, unroll, 
ironically, its au.\ious neatness -for in those <Uys of com|mrative 
amenity contributions api>ear to havo Iwen bodily returneil ; and 
there must have glimmered l>efore him his first vision of the 
difference between ttie taste of the " caterers " for the public and 
the taste of tho brooding critic. Certain it is that from that 
moment he was sure Mt<rim^o was diBtinguishc<l ; perhaps there 
even dawned in him an atiprehension of tho germs, on tho part 
of that autlior's victim, of tho same com])laint. 

After that, with the Cluujiuixte df (Jliarle* IX., with //« Vaif 
A'<r««/tif and La IhnthU Miprinf. with Carmen, Aritine (Ivillnl, 
L'Ahlii Avhain, above all with Clara <ia:ul and various other 
matters — after that it became a thorough superstition, of which 
there is now a charm in retracing the rites and portents, tho 
fevers and fit*. The glamour was doubtless in tho perception 
that, somehow, more than any one else in tho same line, o<|Ually 
near at hand, Merimee was an "artist." The way the thing 
was dime was the dead secret, the hidden treasure. If I was 
still at a loss as to what the artist might Ik*, I had only to look 
straight before me for tho answer. 1'ho artist was simply 
Merimi-e, and it was a blessing so to be able to rest. If this 

July ii;i, 1898.] 



aa a tribute to his remarksblo faculty for koepiiig tlio mimbor 
' of hill toiiohoH down an<1 nrnkiti^ uiich onu unorrin^Iy telt hia 
instinct for incorruptiblo milnction, in otliur wordii, in view of 
bin effnot — what ho onRotitially ituggi«it4Nl wh* that that wa« 
I the fiiio wiiy to writti. Thorn caino in tiiiio iind littlv liy littlu u 
ohange in this viuw : it witii tlio liiDi wiiy t<> write - mioli a truth 
had loHt none of itH fori-o, l>ut aft«r » while arrived tho womler 
of why thou it wiia not more mitiiifying. It wnn lirni imd nlmrp 
and ponntratinp ; yot pi-rhnpn, 'more iind nioro, it iitruck the 
unfolding mind iih mongro. Thon thoro came a light : it wn8 
the bout way to write, yes— but wi»» it, iiltogother, the bout way 
to lie t Tlio (pieatiou only miide the author more interesting - 
opened up vist^m as to the connexion, lui it wuro, lietween the 
talent ami the aoul. It took a h>Dg time, I hitsten to a<ld, to 
move in that direction a distimce at pronent worth spttiiking of; 
but I woll remomber how, when many years hud come and gone, 
the general subject, in relation to the individual Moriuioo, wa« 
refreshed by tho jiublicntion of the letters to the liu'<innue. 

Tho value of thoso admirable volumes wa» gruati'st of all 
for thoso who had early Vieon niystifiod. They »i-attori«l a lap- 
ful of answors, and every ]>ago the author had directly addremte<l 
to the public appeared to have boon but a preparation for the 
aurpriflo and the success of his l^orrespondence. This was to 
make him the |Hirtaker of a literary eo<Ml fortune very superior 
to tho odd, nuirked demi-ropiitation thot his works of llctiou 
and of research, so few and so brief, had had to content 
themselves with achieving for him. His reputation is made 
wholo by his letters, his case iMsautifully arranged. The mixture 
of tlio strong and the thin in his previous volumes presontc*! 
him as a puzzle, but the puzzle has been cleared <ip, and tho 
result has tho liighes. price. I mean not indeetl for the aiil and 
comfort of mankind in general, but for that of the critic 
desirous roally to possess himself of the figure iH'foro him. 
This figure seems, to-day, romovo<l not by a ijuartor, but by 
the whole of a century, an<l to belong to a tradition that the 
l)resent literary manners of its country have made almost as 
alien as some (Missing fashion of Siam or some faded classic of 
China. IJut it is precisely in this rocoini element — with what the 
various volumes of his letters enable us to read into it -that 
there is a special, indescrilmble unity : so sharp a light does 
Mifrimt'o throw, in his way, on the whole " clasaii- " business in 
France, showing us both what (pioer things, in tho old order, 
could go with it and what indisjHJusable ones it could go 
without. Here come in his contradictions antl harsh incon- 
sistencies — of svirface, at all events ; the whole range of anomaly 
illustrated by the sterility of his rare talent, flowering into a 
mere handful of small pieces, and by his having at once so much 
curiosity and so much prejudice. If there was a character that 
alK)ve all he desired to exhibit, it wa." that of a man of the 
world, and yet as a mere man of tho world even he might have 
got a glimpse of what was finally reserved for a literary taste that 
consisted almost wholly in the dread i>f emotion and the abuse 
of sobriety. This conscious sobriety — the absence of rediiiidamy, 
of loose ends, of twaddle that, given strong subjects, made tho 
di»Tincti«n of his best tales, was, after all, a horse that wiks not 
to take him far. 

It was really, to all appearance, as if the artist in him 
had boon killed by the man, by tho jx>rsonal charai'ter and 
its strong and not particularly sweet idio.syncracies, its great 
mark in particular, its horror of the air of innocence. 
Mt!rinio'e, coarse in tomjierament and in imagination, in spite 
of the high type of his cultivation and accomplishment, was 
scarcely innocent of anything, and could well havi- afforded, 
having so much of the reality, not to encuml>er himself with the 
affectation of experience. But ho was bliglite<l, as other men 
have been, with thac worst kind of priggishness. the priggishiiess 
of perversity. Strange it must have seemed to him to have 
proiluced in youth a little row — for it was not a case of a single 
" tluke "—of prose pieces destined to live on and on. and yet to 
find himself, during his long after-time, powerless to add to it. 
If we can imagine that the artist miijht, in conditions, have 
lived and was simply sacrificetl to a certain vulgar element - 


• n» 


All aa 





H tor 

inOOII((moua •■ tha lomi mav >oiifii1 ii 
the c«a« would be i 

I doubt if in fact .M 

giiMwed that tlu< artist ha<l r> 

than try to got on witti »>• inin- 

keepine company with m> funeral an 

hia ' 1 ' ■• 



so (■■ : 

blindnesa in reii|i(«t t4> ' 

Victor Hugo down, reuu 

loss, was it not, at bottom, jnat in order to cot 

hia iloom of productivo nn— 'it Itu .i.,.. — 

{larticularly in th« st-nso thai u attacb t<> lh<' 

with so much eiH-rgy and vari< • •■ f- mit.' ' 

so much brutality .' That is '  m. 

him as i' ..i 

extreme.! if; 

it out " of uteryttiing ulav t<> iiiako up for diaapj :•■ 

He arrived indued, and in iirofuaion, at ^ -. a* 

Well, and everything in the picture fall* into its plac*. Tb« 
whole view makes him an i" - - >ri aingidarly ouUltuxl and 
concrete of a perio<I alrea<l ue U' wear, a* it reo«d«a, 

the sort of 8iM.-cial note by » ' ' " ;.»l 

age. The first Kmpim had ' lO 

old li'/iinr ha<l it under tho tioi. I'u-. >• 

it: that ])erio<l is alroaily old Frm .t. 

Mo'riinee's interesting intimacy, from . :• Mn*. 

do Montijo bore signal fruit from the i..  „iit»r of 

that lady, the born heroine of a fairy-tale, fouiifl hvrwlf upon 
the throne of Franco. He bxl known from babybootl the 
Rmpreaa that was to he, and the miracle of her exaltation 
" placed " him for the rest of his life. The faronr. ^' *•- -h- 
nient of the two Sovereigns, his particular position .>' i* 

aeuatorship, his emoluments, his genera! i «• 

torical monuments, enabU^l hira to carrv i* 

character of man of the world. Tlie word, u\> : id 

scarce been invented, but, almost without knou ' a 

modem coamo[>olit«<. He knew Knglish so «oll that there ar* 
no mistakes in his letters -and I moan not 'ml, ty tni-.'.il;e« i.f 
s{ielliiig. He was in and out of London 

with his iiiurnenani turn of fancy and the *i..  , 

that is just another of his many inct>n£ruiliea. I ' -A 

in a " British " me<lium, save so far aa I<oii>' < < ould 

help him, it would seem to defy the acutest ' 'o aay. 

That he not only, in fact, broathe<l. ' i, ia to 

the credit, I think, of every one • • leaat 

to that of his English friemls. good- 

nuture<I folk. Of coiUTie, I »ui •^'lenee 

for proof, he was, in in; 'ty 

how witty ii-as perlM|i«, bore, n 
M. Filon expresses with remarkable felicity the t it 

him, that prompts most t" lert— lion -the manner i: -iio 

Correspondence is his !• d bot woiMlerful roronge. He 

died, intellectually spenMii^;, tn dryness, too yo-- • ••'•• -• 'n«t 
to come to life again in a form in which the ' ig 

so as pur. ' ... '.jd -was not oriiy y. it 

was susc .ry renoTalion. Tl • a\ 

irony whicli, bicilviii^ Juuu as an aid to » .!i 

creation, threw him mainly into "pusntionn nv ;>, 

could reap a harvest  'f 

creating, only to enjoy,  n 

demande<l. of course, a great man 

things"— an ample competence, .., . . , , — 

plenty of society, of attractive women, of good cooka. It would 
have failed, I am afraid, had the subject of it not N-"" •-■ 
fortunate, not been, as it were, so handaomcty net up in bu 
It is ditVicult to uuagine the correepondent of tho Iii. . i.- 
addressing her from humble loilgiitgs or after a bad ili:iii. : .\» 
the case stands, at all erent-s, we have come in for a literary 
treasure. .\iid the treasure, clearly, is to bo augmented— tbe 



[July 23, 1898. 

;'!•»!'<. I i.H of Um r>dM«t. M. Filon holda oat tho ho|>« — or so 
1 rP:i(l him— that we •hall iiltiinatolr have, aiiioii); all tliu letters 
aa vot ti«Id Iwck, thi> inn' -"(mI to Mino. do Montijo, 

Then, no doubt, we shall b< .- struck with that <liti°or- 

«iK-« in tho writ4.<r'i> favour on winch his biopraphor iiisiKtu— tho 
way that he outshines in this field, nnumj^ his oountrj-uien, the 
other ivlebritios of his class and time. M. Filon very justly 
loni'.ists tlieir poverty and vuljrarity as letter-writers with 
8 liberality and inimitability. But they had nut, the 
.<7,^,.,vii>ss Balxaca and liautiers, his arrears to make up. 


jForcion Xcttera 

—  — 

The poeta are not all like Victor Hugo and M. Copjirfo : too 
few of them quit their alexandrines for the Mr of critic. Tho 
gr«*t poet Leconte do LiNle, whose bust by M. Doiiys I^ioch was 
nnreiled on Sunday, July 10, in the academic garden of the 
Luxembourg, was himself a critic whose early work in tho Nain 
Jaune will certaiidy one day Ik) collected and republished. One 
of the features of the frtt was the criticism of the author of tho 
Pokmtt Baihartt and the Poemfx Antiquf.i by the chiseller of the 
•onneta of Let Trophiet, M. Joa^-Maria de H^r^dia. 

He spoke on behalf of the poets of the French Academy. 
But he spoke rather on behalf of poetry in general— a task for 
which he is incomparably fitted, even in tho France of Sully- 
Prudhomme, who has wxitten a sonnet for this occasion : 
L» Forme t'« lr»hi, poi-te qui raimais ; 
Au tombpau, l« pli 6er ile ta haulc ironie 
A ilesert^ ta boiirhc, oO tri'mnit I'Tlannonio, 
Ta boiicbe «u verbe d'or, sans li'vre» ddsormais : 
Nn, t<*rraM^, ton front rcnonce nux purs (iomniet«. 
I.ibre aejoor du vrai, que la terrv d^nie ; 
Itepliant wir ton ra-ur I'nilc dc ton K'^'nis, 
O fiU de Fromitbce. cDfin tu t« soumota. 
II est bria£, le dard de ta rlairc prunelle. 
La brusque invasion de la nuit 6t«melle 
N'a que trop satisrait cc porur nivft^-rleux. . . . 
Maia poor la seule vie licureuae, sfire ot pleine. 
La (iloire ti- ranimp I Elli- rouvre tes yi'ur 
Et tes r*m ont aonn^* dans son immenM h.ileim'. 

If (said If . '.' remains more illuslrioua than arclaimed, if 

his Ifaies are not np, it i« Woause they are of too pure a form, 

of tec rare ao esaence. ... He told the udnem and dcnpair of .'^atau, 
the sorrows of the exiled from Eden, the malediction and despair of 
Cain. He des<'eDds from the high plateaus to the aacred (iangca and its 
woods. haunte<l \iy the gwla of India. Egypt olfera to him glimpises 
and its palaces. He travcnuii .ludea, and lingers 
f the sea wh>-rc .\pbm<lite wan bom and where A<lonis 
ciie-i. II. «.,K till, first in France to mitore tlicir true names to tho godn, 
the *hl», the streains, the mountains, the cities, the men of Hellas. 

He sang of it< ' ' ■- «hepbcrds, and in the drama 

interpreted the ' hm. 

He was tlu ;.. ^i. ,,.- , ,,.... i.ii.trated the ubacure soul of 

■nimala. Familiar with the great wild heasta, he knows their slim 
♦Tnicti.rr. •■,(• , ,iir nt' ilii-i. I,..,r ihrir supple -.lep, the hunger and 

:>t. that of things and existences, 
' I'l't. in I'arly youth he saiil : — 

I '' ■'■ au fond de la rumeur <les naits, 

!•' Tge et BoufTranco inconnoe, 

la terre et roule dans la nue, 
>■<• irrant dans IV'temel chemin, 
M> |iar le soupir hamain. 

**<" rhomme, i'> voix triste et pmfonde ! 

k:,A towsr-l- • < i of his life — 

.Ini ,■ .•• 1^1 di' joie, et j'ai I'lmf aasouvia 
I)e« r. : -i <■ . , , , ,ii • '.ins que des si^clea sneiens. 
I>aii« !• .,-1 :i •'. r !■ ,:..'■ .nt tous lea miens 
Hue am \, .:. ' ■Mr ;. ...II,,-. .1,. ma Tie ! . . . 
Ah : tout '■•1.1. .>• in.-.«-., joie et pensie, 
Cliaiits de la D>er et dra (urt-ts, aouflU.a du ciel, 
Basportant 4 plein vol rEap^ranre inseosie, 
Qn'cst-cc que tout ceU qui o'rst |«a itemel ? 

But the last paruj,n-ai>ii ol M. HiSr^lia's tribute must bo given in 
French : — 

Tel fut le )M)ete. Je ue saurais parler de I'liomme sans emotion. 
II a t\.i mun mattre, notre maitre A tous, anneal et fratomel. II iivait 
rumc haute, le civur temlre et tier, un esprit profoiid et oharmant. Tous 
ceux qui I'ont vraiment oounu I'aimaii-iit autaut ipi'ila I'aihniraient. 
Artiste accompli, il fut un iducateur incomparable, car il avait la faculty 
si rare de se dcdoublir, de se mi-ttre, coinme il disuit en riant, dans la 
peau d'un autre, ct toujours il vous donnait auivant votre nature le 
mfillcnr conseil. I'sr-iU-ssus tout, il estiiiiait la proliitC- dans I'art. II 
avait I 'instinct <ai mot propre, du termc exact, le sens dc lu rune 
nicesaaire, dc cetti' rime qui doit conti-ntcr la rnison, i>liiirc :\ I'lril et, 
cbanuant I'oreille la plus delicate, parfaire ce tout haruionieux qu'cst 
un beau vers. 

M. Maurice Barrt?s also spoke for the j'ounger nion who frequonted 
the poet's .Saturday evenings. ^Ye quote his critical estimate of 
M. Loconte do Lisle :— 

He fulfilled in a way the function of a Boileau. He gave m discipline 
to French poetry, when the jienius of the l,nmartiiies, the de Musseta, 
the Hugos, were leading our talents into dilTusenexs. He restored the 
classical art of <-losing in about a subject, of arranging the matter, and 
of basing poetry on something linn and real. 


Mr. W. B. Dalby is, in Longman's, very instructive on tho 
preservation of hearing, nnd sajTJ u good many things worth 
noting. One is the comforting iidvico that we Khoiild abandon 
the attempt to listen to sermons or lectures if wo can only hejir 
a part of them. Mr. Walter Herrios Pollock has an imitative 
piece called " the Bird's Evensong," with a " Loiulcr," an 
"Elder," a "Sceptic," and a "Choir." Oddly enough, ho 
seems to have, unconsciously perhaps, made all the birds except 
tho choir thrushes. Mrs. Oldfield's romiuiscencos of a few days 
spent in a country house with Mr. Gladstone contain remarks 
of more or loss interest by the statesman on a variety of sub- 
jects, with recollections of pietractarian days when Nowmnn 
" was considered a decided Evangelical and Dr. Piisey some- 
thing of a Itiitionalist.'' 

I'hicktrouil's has an aI)lo article on Mr. Gladstono wliich deals 
with his character and career with nn outsi>okenness and candour 
only now becoming poKsiblo, and which contains certainly a 
good many things which require to be said if wo would gain a 
just, and therefore an adequate, estimate of his greatness. 
Another, among many interesting articK's, finds the sei-ret of tho 
charm of golf to lie in tho fact that the player feid.s it all depends 
upon himself irrespectively of his antagonist, which can hardly 
bo said of any other game. The loading place, however, is given 
to the Parliamentary rominisconcos of Sir .John Mowbray, which 
contain nothing very striking, but have the interest which must 
always attach to tho personal recollections of one who has 
through a long life livofl with those who make history, and has 
himself had some share in tho making of it. 

M. Kmilu Faguet, in CmmopotU, furnishes an interesting 
definition of tho romantic method : — 

Ije r^'alisme c'est la pi'inturc condciisi-e ct vive de la ** moyennc 
de I'hiimanitc, et cbez Ics r^alistes les trcfb's ont toujours trois fcuilli s. 
paree que I 'immense majorit£ des trcflcs sont atnsi fait*. I..<-k r■>mHneHlpu■^ 
sent tout simplcmcnt des gens qui se sunt aviscs que. si la r^alitc. 
c'est-A-dim la majority des cos, I'st int^'reasaole, rexciiition I'esl nussi 
et ne laisoe ]>ns dc I'ctie parfois davaiitage ; et Ics romaiies<|ii< .« Mint gens 
qui vont par le tiionde i la recherche d<>s trctlcs it quatrc fcuilles. 

The illustratiiin is good, but perhaps one might refine a little 
u]><>n it. Tho romantic contention would lie, surely, that every 
siNicimcn of clover has a "fourth leaf," if one will only look 
closely enough for it, and that in this " fourth leaf " lie all the 
interest and significance of the matter. 

Ill bis article on " Tho Theatre in Berlin " Dr. Felix Poj.- 
ponborg WTitua tliat the prosentation of Shakos{Miare by Mr. 
ForlKis Rjls-Ttson and Mrs. Patrick Campliell was a revelation 
to the fieriiutn stage. According to the English view, ShakeH|M-aru 
inUennany is a generation iMthiiidhaiid in developiiient. According 
to the German view, Shakes|H!are in England is sufToring from 

July 23, 1898.] 



|he nurvoiiH luininurii which w« u.snoc'iatii with tho oiul <if thu 
untury. Thi.s (litriirniiru in coiicoiitioii lif«, in jiarl, in tiiu 

Jivorgnncus bctwiiun Slmi{oii|M)aro'ii toJtt iinil tho (iurinun tranii- 
lltioii. Hi'iT PiippenlMir^; »Imo (luaU with Hunnann Siirlurnmnii'M 

?' .TohiinnoM," iind niiiiom thti c<im|>nriH<>n hutw«<«n tho BHptiiit 

kn(l Hainlut whicli wiw iiungwKtwl in "Ui- Foici^jn Letter on 
Fubrimiy o. 


— ♦— — 


By tho <luath of Mrs. Lynn Linton, following at leas than a 
year's interval on that of Mrs. Oliplmnt, tho elder penoration of 
Kuglish woinon of letters has heen brought almost, if not ipiite, 
to a close. We doubt, at any rate, whether there still survives 
any writer of distinction an'l of tho siimo sex whoso first i>ub- 
li.shod work dates back to within tho former half of tho century. 
Hoth Mrs. Linton and, though sonio seven years her junior, .Mrs. 
Olilihant, began their literary career in tho 'forties, and both 
pursued it with indefatigable euorgj', though at very diflerent 
rates of production, till tho very end of life. One of them had 
closely ap]<roached the otlier had actually pas.sod tho " golden " 
anniversary of her wedding with literature, and with both it had 
been a prosjicrous union, great as was the disi>arity in the 
respective numbers of their otfsijring. Tho accomplished writer 
who has just passed away leaves behind her less than a third of 
that amazing tale of works — not far short of ono hundred and 
twenty in all — which the bibliographer has had to append to tho 
name of Mrs. Oliphant ; but it was from want neither of industry 
nor of facility that, in tho record of her fifty od<l years of literary 
labour, she fell so far short of her predecessor. Her deficiencj- more 
jirobably lay in that gift of invention which her contemix>rary 
piK-isossed in such extraordinary measure. Mrs. Linton's was 
c.isontirtUy a critical rather tlian a creative mind ; she was a born, keenly interested in the social cpicstion.^ and theo- 
logical issues of her time ; and at a comparatively early stage in 
her career she showed a temlency to use tho novel as a vehicle for 
the advocacy of her very decided views. Sucli a practice rarely 
makes for jiermanent success in Bction, and it is not surprising 
either that she should, even at tho zenith of her i>owers as a novel- 
ist, have made her chief mark uj>on literature by her famous and 
caustic criticisms of " The Girl of the Period " rather than by the 
novels which she was then pretty plentifully pi-cxlucing : or that 
in later life when such vogiie as .she had enjoyed in this class of 
work was beginning to depart from lier she should have devoted 
herself mainly to, and ttven to that branch of it which 
concerns itself with the current social topics of the day. It is 
])erhapN to bo regretted that Mrs. Linton, who was a woman of 
wide reading, and, as she showed in a recent contribution to our 
columns, full of an appreciative love for tho great classics of 
literature, did cot feel herself recalled in the evening of her days 
to those literary studios for which the inspiring talk of Walt»a- 
Savage Landor first aroused her girlish enthusiasm. One could 
even wish that she had retained her interest in those greater social 
and spiritual problems of humanity which she handle<l in 
" .Toshvia Davidson." But, as it was, she devoted her last days 
to a controversy over certain (questions of female conduct and 
manners which, though she could never bring herself to see it, 
are largely transitory in their charact-iT. It was some slight 
consolation that the tirades which she ponred forth in such 
profusion on this subject — tirades of unmeasured vehemence and 
indiscreet exaggeration, but full of stirring rhetoric and biting 
satire — at an ago which had considerably exceeded tho span fixed 
by tho Psalmist, displayiKl tho splendidly tenacious vitality of 
her intellectual jKYwers and once more demonstratiHl the extra- 
ordinary looseness of King David's actuarial computations. On 
the other hand, the passion of these diatrilx'S tended to produce 
false impressions of a natm-e which was really one of singular 
gentleness and benignity. The wildest of Mrs. Linton's " wild 
women ' ' would have been personally quite assured of tho same 

miUI treatmi'ut at her hands a* My ' 

the fly. " Uo i>oor " (let us say) " ei. 

wide enough to hold both the« and iiie." And so it waa, bihI i>, 

tho\igh this vigorous and brilliant writ.i un. oft.n i, mi.i. .1 i.. 

write as if it were not. 


Tlio next numlHir of Literature will contain 
Right lUjverend the Bishop of I! ;'-.■■ •' \«' 
he by Mr. Reginald Hughes. 

a iNKtm 

I>y tho 

Mr. Julian Corbett is engaged u|>on a volume which will 
form a ge<|ucl to bis " Drake an«l tho Tudor Navy "—reviewed 
in thi'se columns some months ago— carrying the history of 
the war down to the death of Rlixal)eth, an<( to the reault* 
of the peace at tho accession of .lames I. Thi« b«ink will diMil 
with Kssex's expeditions to Cidiz and t li 

invasion of Ireland, and also generally ^^ n 

to renew their project of loWS and our own attempts to destroy 
their Oceanic trade. Though this jtart of the history has never 
been written in any completeness, its value to a modnm student 
of strategy is higher than that of the earlier and better-known 
cam|>aignB when S|>ain was weak at sea. The central figures in 
Mr. .lulian Corbett's book will to, of course, Essex and Raleigh. 
There still a|>i>ears to Ihi nnich interesting matter which has not 
yet been used for tho elucidation of this extremely fruitful and 

important period. 

 » •   

Mr. Henry Charles Richards, memlter for East FinsVmry 
since 1805 and author of, among other hand-books and manuals, 
tho work on "Tholiaw of Compensation," is devoting some time to 
tho writing of his political exiwriences, Injginning with the first 
meeting he attended and the first election he went through, wo 
presume that of Northampton in 1883, when ho opimsed Mr. 
Bradlaugh. The reminiscences will probably not he published 

for some time. 

  » » 

Profe.ssor A. A. MacdoncU, the well-known authority oth 
Sanskrit generally and Vedic mythology in particular, has been 
at work for some time past on a History of Sanskrit Litera- 
ture which is to form part of Mr. Heinemann's series entitle<l, 
" Literatures of the World." The progress of research has been 
very great since the last work accessible to English students 
ap|>eared -namely, Profes.sor Weber's History of San.skrit 
Literature, which was written twenty-three years ago, and Mr. 
Macdonell's book will be the first {>op\dar account of ancient 
Indian literature. On the completion of this work its 
author has promised to edit and translate for Lauman's 
Harvard Oriental Series the* Sanskrit text of the " Brihadde- 
vata," the oldest collection of the Vedic myths in existence. 
Tliis will be followed by a manual of the Vedic language and 
literature, the greater part of the material for which he lias 
already coUecttxl. Professor Macdonell has also in ccntemplatioa 
a largo work, a dictionary of " Ancient Indian Mythology, 
Literature, .\ntiquitie8, and (ieographj-," in three volumes. A 
work of this kind is certainly a desideratum to all Indian 
scholars, and will be awaited with considerable interest. 
« »  » 

Professor Robinson Ellis, of Oxford, is just bringing to- 
completion a critical edition of Velleius Paterculus, on which 
he has been engaged for tho past two years. It will l>e published 
in September as on independent volume by the Clarendon Press. 
Although there is onlj- ono MS. of Velleius, there is sco{<e for 
much critical work in connexion with the text, and the ayjmratH* 
rritiftis at the foot of each page will be extensive. Critii-al notes 
defending certain readings will appear at the end of the volume. 
» »  • 

Mr. Compton Reade is now engaged on a volume entitled 
" The Record of tho Redes " — now Rcado — of Oxon, Berks, and 
Herts, with some account of other families allied thereunto, 
among their number being the Hoos, Lyttons, and Brockets, o£ 



[July 23, 1898. 

H«rt« ; th* Coriiewalln, 5v»tU, Wurin^TN, FolliotU, and 
SAodfonls, of Salop ; the RusselU of Strciisham, Pormors of 
RsnaliMB, and others. The book will contain tht> ]>ortrait8 of 
Sir C<Hn]>ton Roadp, tho cavalier, and his wife, ilnii^lit«r of Sir 
Qilbert Coriiewall, M.P., Baron of Barford ; also of Sir Thomas 
RMde, M.P., who sorrod in tho households of Goor^ I. and 
G«org« II. : of the late Charles Reade, the novelist, in his 
youth ; while a chai)ter devoted to the Anii-ricaii Roads— without 
the final " e " — will Vh> omK>Ilishe<1 l>_v that of tlio lato (Soneral 
•I. Merixlith Head, Knight of the Order of tho Holy Re<leeiner of 
Greeci- and AmliaMaador of the liiited States at the Court of 
Athens. Tlie publishers are .Takeman and Carver, of Hereford, 
and the price to subscribers half a guinea. Tlio number of 
copies of this edition to be limit«<l to 2u0, of which the greater 
pkrt have been already underwritten. 

• •  « 

Tho usually factitioas formality of the French so-cnlle<l 
national ffU of July 14 was somewhat relaxe<l and varie<l this 
y««r by the evocation of the great name of Michelet. Mnie. 
Mtebelet, to whose loyulty these {losthumous honours for her 
husband are largely due, has herself been oclebrntcd with much 
eloquence, which none who know the invaluable services she 
has rendcrwl to the grent historian's memory can grudge her. 
She would have wis)ie<l this fiU to \ya more national. But the 
very fact of its being oflicial rendered that hoiie vain. It was 
enough that a Minister of Education, M. Rnmband, should 
declare his intention to im(>ose the celebration of Michelet 
ui>nn the French communes in connexion with the fHf of the 
capture of the liastille for one whole section of Frenchmen to 
refuse to see in him merel}' the inconii>arable historian of France, 
and to think of him as only the enemy of the .Tcsuits and of tho 
Catholic Church. They accordingly c.-ist about for another idol, 
and Chateaubriand was resuscitate)] to be contrasted with 
Michelet. Nothing could be more characteristic tlian tlie tone 
of the (lolemic in which the relative merits of these great writers 

are still discussed tliroughout France. 

« « » •  

In enumerating bil)liogra)ihically tho results of this revival 
of Michelet and Chateaubriand, detiiiic<l mention should l)c made 
of the new e<Ution of Michelet publislie«l by Calmann L^vy 
announced in Literature of .Inly 2. Six of the volumes have now 
ap|>earo<l— tho " Oiseau,'" with tho introduction by M. Copj)^e ; 
the " Mer," with an arant j>r<^m» by M. Pierre Loti ; and four 
volunurs of the historical works — on " La Reforme," with five 
engravings : on " I^ Renaissance," with six |Hirtraits ; on 
•' Lcs Femmes de la Revolution " : and on " Los Soldats do la 
Revolution." Tlie p»iecM of modern history is to be introduce<l 
by Professor Monod : tho " Legendes da Nord " by Professor 
Brt-al, author of " La S^mantique " ; the " Insocte " by M. 
Berthelut, the great scientist and friend of R^uan : the 
" Sorcii-re " by .M. .\natolo France : the " Ktudiant " by M. 
Ernest Lavisse ; the " Originos <1u Droit " by M. Kmilo Faguet, 
»tc. Among the many jiroofs of the vogue of Michelet to-<lay 
none is more ofToctive than this testimony of the most dis- 
tinguished writers of motlern France. 

« • « * 

As to ChateanWiand, besides the recent volumes of letters 
and the news|n|ier and magazine articles bringing us many a 
fresh and euriitus document, and Itesides the remarkable study 
of tho " Duchesse de Duraa," the most notable book to I>o 
reonnlod i* the new etlition, with an introduction, notes, and 
ap]vendice« by a ]eame<l Breton, M. Edmond Bin', of tlie 
'• Mcmoires d'f)utre Tombe," which Gamier is bringing out in 
six volume* M. Bir($ lins spent a lifetime over this liook. No 
one is S' it to pre|«re the final e<lition of this groat 

classic. ' first of tlie six volinnos of this commentary is 


 •  • 

fr<i . "ir. 

His .Ministerial career iMgan in f>e<'emt>er, \tib'I, when at 
twenty-nine he was appointed Lord Privy Seal with a ]M>st in 
Lord Aberdeen's Cabinet. He was a member of both of Lord 

Palmerston's Administrations and 8orvo<l under Lord Russell 
from Lord I'almcrston's death in October, 18C5, until tho 
Government was turned out in June, 1806. The Duko was Secretary 
for India undor Mr. Gladstone from 18C8 to 1874, and he again 
held Cabinet oflice from May, 1880, to April, 1881, when his dis- 
approval of tho Ministerial measures for Land Reform le<l him 
to resign. There was a most cordial friendship between the 
Duko and Mr. (ilailstone, based upon many common interests 
outside ]x>litic8. The Duke was also well aci|uaint<-d with 
Carlyle. .\ s\i(licient amount of manuRcript has tioon completed 
to fill two volumes, but this only brings the narrative down to 
the year 1848, when tho present Duko sueceeiled to his father's 
title, before the Ix^ginning of his i>olitical career. Tho first part 
of the work will prolmbly be published in the autumn. 

•   « 

Lord Rosebery, who has been elected President of tho Edin- 
burgh Philosophical Institution, in succession to the late Mr. 
W. E. Gladstone, is the seventh of a remarkably illustrious lino 
who have held that position. The first was Adam Black, then 
Lonl Provost of Kdinburgh, who was appointed when the Insti- 
tution was foundetl in 1840. To him succeeded, in 1847, IVo- 
fessor John Wilson, " Christopher North.'' who was succeeded 
in 1854 by Lord Macaulay. Lord Brougham was electe<l in ISfiO, 
and in 18C9 Thomas Carlyle. In 1881 Mr. (ilodstono was ap- 
pointed, and now Lord Roselx-ry. '• The Philosophical," as it 
is familiarly termed, maintains its position as the leading 
literary club in the Scottish capital. Its scope has l>een extende<l 
from time to time until it now |>o»ses8e8 most of the advantages 
and conveniences of a club. But its original objects have never 
liettn ueglect<Hl. A prominent feature is its Lecture Course. 
Numerous l>ooks have had their origin in lectures delivered at 
the Institution — f-g., Ruskin's " Lectures on Architi'Cturo and 
Painting " ; Freeman's " History of tho Saracens " ; Kingsloy's 
" Alexandria and Her .Schools " ; Masson's " British Nove- 

« « «  

Dr. Joseph Parker, of the City Temple, proposes to piililisli 
in the auti'mn a book entitled " Paterson'a Parish : a Lifetime 
Among the Dissenters." No publisher has yet been approached. 

•  «  

Mr. J. .T. Rjiven, whose volume on "Suffolk" will be 
rememl)ere<l, has Iteen engaged for some time past on "The 
Life and Times of Sir Walter Mildmay, Founder of Emmanuel 
College, Cambridge." This life, carefully prepared from original 
material, may serve to throw considerable light on the days of 

(juoen Elizabeth. 

• «  « 

Mr. K. Doighton, author of "Tho Old Dramatists: Con- 
jectural Readings," has lotoly sent to jtress tho MS. of a second 
series dealing with Shakespeare, Massingor, Ford, Shirley, 
Brome, Tournuiir, Lilly, Randolph, and tho miscellaneous 
dramatists in " Dixlsloy's Old Plays." 

« • « » 

Canon Ovc^rtnn is to contribute a ]>refacc to tho seventh 
edition of Dr. McConnell's " History of the American Episcopal 
Church." This work, which is being jirepared for issiio by 
Messrs. Wells Gardner, Darton, & Co., has been thoroughly 
reviseil and enlarged, and now covers the movement of tho Church 
during the last quarter of a century. The former editions carriotl 
us no further than tho American Civil War. 

«  « « 

Tlie author of " A Free Lance in a Far Land," a story of 
advonttiro in the Central India of the last century, and " The 
King's Hussar," Mr. Herln-rt Compton, has bi-eii ongaget] for 
some time inst on a novel dualing with Botany Bay at the end 
of loiit century and during tho eorly years of its ]Hiiial settle- 
ment, when the conditions of convict life were as arduous and 
brutal as those existing earlier in tho century in tho Plantations 
of America, of which there are already several pictures in iiiodern 


« « « « 

Shakes])care's autograph \ The very ]>ossibility of {Mssessing 
such a thing is enough to turn the collector almost frantic with 

July 23, 1898.] 



lccit<Mncnt ! Muhhi-h. Hotlieby will hcII on Satunlay next i» cDjiy 
SiiraviV '• I Qiiuttro Libri doUa KiloNotiu," |iubli.shoil at 

Tenice in 1565, with thu xignittiirefi of W. Sliak(iK|ieAro writton 
rice oiitxide tlip covor, and tlio indistinct romainn of another 

ignatnro which readily snf;}{08t Herbert. The ixMligrce of thin 
Dok do«i« not no ho far back ii.s tlm MontiiiKne with Shakt'Siioaro'ti 

l^iaturii in the Itritinh Mn.scuni. I'he earlioHt notico of ita 
(iktenco diitos from 181 1, and down to 1845 it roniainud in the 
knds of one or two owners of no literary note. The llrst porHon 
who obsorvi'd the autofirajih of Shak«'H]H'iiro was Mrs. Taylor, the 
wife of tlio (jontliiinan who aci|nir<>d the voltniio for Cd. in 1824 ; 
this lady cleaned the covor and partly ofi'acod the writing, bnt 
one of the Shaki'Hpfaro Mi){natnres is perfectly clear. In IH-J.j this 
volnnio was offered for sale at Fletcher's rooms in Piccadilly, 
and purchased by the eminent Ijooksellor, William Pickering, for 
twenty-one guineas. In a letter dated June 0, IRto, and addre88e<l 
to Mr. H. Dockray, Pickering says : — 

" The autograph on this volume of Saravi exactly corre- 

ivonds with the Montaigne autograph. I purchased this volume 
..f Saravi's believing it to be the true autograph of Shakespeare ; 
it is also the opinion of Mr. [aftonvards Sir] Frederick Madden, 
Keeper of the MSS. in the liritish Museum, that it is true, and 
of many others." 

 • *  

The " Summer Catalogue" of choice books and manuscripts, 
issued bj- Kllis and Elvey (29, New IJond-stroet), contains 

iiany entries of a tempting nature. There is an excellent copy 
each of the First, Second, and Fourth folio Shakespoaros, a fine, 
clean cojiy of the first Dutch translation of the eelcbratod 
romance, " Dat IJoeck Van<len Pelgherijm," jirintod at Haarlem 
in 148(5. an especially valuable o<lition on account of the large 
Muml>er of early woodcuts which it contains, and of which two 

ue reiiroducod in the catalogue. An e(|\ia1ly interesting book 
i.s " The I'ilgryumgo of Perfeccion," |)rintod by Wynkyn de 
AVorde aoout 15:51. John Hunyan is stipposed to have been 
i.imiliar with both these books. Some of the Shakcspeariana in 
I his catalogue are very rare, notably Fenton's " Certain Tragi call 
Discourses written oute of Frcncho and Latin," 1567 (of which 
Warton speaks as tlie rarest volume of its kind), a clear copy 

'f the " Mirour for Magistrates," 1610, and the 1582 edition of 

• liatman ujipon l?artholome, his Booko De Proprietatibus 
Uerum." The collections of early Iwoks on music and of old 
<ong books contain many quaint publications. 

« » • « 

Lord John Russell, of all men in the world, is in a fair way 
of lK>ing " collected " When a young man he wrote a tale which 
he called the •• Nun of Arrouca." which Mr. Murray published 
m 1822. It tvas suppressed by the author soon after publication, 
ind Loi-d John bought up and destroyed every copy which ho 

.luld procui-e, regardless of cost. But a few copies got into 
:eneral circulation, and beyond the reach of the author. Some 
ten years ago a copy sold for thirty-eight shillings ; and on 
Friday last an uncut copy realized as much as £2 18s. at 

* * * * 

Certain criticisms on the theory that '• I'ickle " was Glen- 
garry, have induced Mr. Andrew Lang to look further into the 
• lacobite documents, with the result that he is bringing out a 
eqnel to "I'ickle the Spy,*" eiititli'd "The Companions of 
Pickle," a set of eighu-enth wntury portraits, indudiu'' a 
biography of the last Earl Marischal, and a statenfent 
f the c:ise against Glengarry, from hitherto unpublished 
iocuments, with a view of the state of the Highlands k'tween 
the Rising of 1746 and the great migration to America. 

 • * « 

A short story by Miss Agnes Gihenje, the author of " A 

Modern Puck," will begin with the August number of the <?iiir</-, 

"unded on an incident in the Indian Mutiny. Miss Giberne is 

also wTiting an historical novel, which will prolwibly appear in 

the autnnni. 

.. * * * * 

With the new year the Lomlon Quarterly Jierifu; which is 
the leading representative of Methodism in the press, will come 

under the control of the Conftfrenee, with the \U'V. W. L. 
Watkinson m editor, and will appear in • new form, nofnewlmi 
resemblinf; in «hki>e the ConUmporart/ Kniev 

• • • > 

I'he now edition of " Mahdiism and the Sndan," which tnw 
al><>ut to make its appeantrict', will now prolmbly lie poatpuned 
for Bomi* little time. Thi.i is owing to thi' fact that the author, 
Colonel F. H. WingaUi, is so overwhelme<l with work, in coii- 
iWxion with his ai>pointment as Htiad of the Iiitclli(.'.Ti<-.. T>.jv,rt- 
noent in Kgypt, that his time is too fully <  
any but his purely professional duties. At ti 
coming campaign, however, the re]iublication of the b<Hik will, 
it is IioihmI, take place. It is understotxl tluit it will lie subjoctMl 
to considerable revision, thertd)y greatly increasing ita value aa 
a stjindard work on this int«<resting subject. 

« • « • 

A full account of the important Hereford eArthcpiuke of 
December 17, 1806, by Dr. Charles Davison, P'.G.S., will l)e 
|)ublished in the autumn, if a suflicient nurnljer of subscription* 
be obtiiine<l to defray the cost of printing. 

« « « « 

A new novel by Mr. Rider Haggard caIlo<l "A Karmer's 
Year : IJtung his Commonplace Book for 1898," a daily ri-cord of 
the history of a IMJO acre farm from January to December, and 
other matters connected with country life in Norfolk, will lM'j,'in 
to appear serially in the September number of Lon'imiiim' 

 • » » 

Mr. Nat Gould, who has publishe<l no fewer than twenty-two 
novels with Messrs. Routledge during the last six or seven years, 
has agreo<l to supply the same publishers with four novels for 
J89!). Until recently he has l)een travelling in Italy. 

* « • « 

'I'he Rev. James Ross, chairman of the Congregational t'nion 
of Scotland, is preparing a short " History of Scottish Congre- 
gationalism." It is expected to be ready by October. 

 « « « 

During the recent session of the .Anthro]>oiogical Institute 
of Great Britain and Ireland a committee of the council was 
api>ointed to consider the advisability of an alteration in the 
size of the laesont quarterly journal. Although the joiu-nal in 
its present form has a long and honourable history, it com|>aros 
unfavourably in size with several Continental pui '' mA 

does not allow sullicient scoiw for extensive ill At 

the present time there is no anthropological publication in 
England cajiablo of meeting these requirements, and it has 
wcasionally hai)]iened that i>a|>ers of much interest, at , 
by valuable iihotographs and drawings, have lieen i i 

abroad for want of a snitoble medium in London. With the 
desire of obviating this unsatisfactory state of affairs, the council 
of the Institute has resolved to sanction additional ox|iendit)U-e 
on printing in the \\o\k) that the i.rojwrtionate increase in the 
interest and utility of the journal will secure for it the syni|«thy 
and 8upi)0|-t of all those intcresto<I in anthrojinlngical studies 
throughout the Empire. The attempt will be ma<Ie in the new 
.series to apportion the available sjiace as evj-nlv as possible 
between the ditrorent branches of study indudeil in the general 
science of man. Folklore is provided for elsewhere, but j.hysical 
anthro])ologj-, prehistory, aiul ethnology have all claims' to a 
more liberal treatment than they have hitherto been able to 
obtain. In view of the temix>rary dislocation of existing arrangiv 
ments which the projKisetl change will entail, it has been de<'ided 
that there shall be no issue of the present series in August, and 
that the new series shall commence in October with a double 


Messrs. William Clowe.i :ire puipjisiiin;; ili" .second edition of 
"The Law of the Press," a digest of the law airectiug newspapers 
in England, India, and the Colonies, with a chapter on foreign 
press codes, by Joseph R. Fisher and J. Andrew Strahan, LL.B 


The Syndics of the Cambridge University Press have under- 
taken the publication of a series of monographs upon material 



[July 23, 1898. 

obUuii«(l bjr Dr. Arthur Wilier, Balfour Studunt of the 
l'ni»«r=''" '- — '^'•" ?<-it«in, tho Loyalty Islamis, and other 
blaiifl. .< during the years 1895-181)7 iiu-luKivo. 

The work « ' ' >' Konults of tlio oxixfdition, 

alMl th«« fir- I in Aunusi) will iiidndi? 

a . I>r. \\ illoy I'll tiio Anatomy luul Development 

oi ' ~ Novae Britanniae. 

 • • • 

In the no\i nomhw of the Nete Century Rerietr, the second 
portion of ' raid's Piokwiokian ^^tudie8 will 

be giren. <■ ■'■'"■ its Thontre, Keviows, Ac," 

"£>x and Blacking," Sjieoch Trundle." Other 

nambers will conUin " V ^^ :i and Cricket," " Goswell 
Straet," " Mary Hogarth," " Mr. Pott and tho Encyclopiudia 



The forthcoming issue of the Metfuit (fc France will contain 
the first portion of a study uf Carlyle by M. Edmond Birth^lemy, 
who published in tho same columns last year a learned transla- 
tion of "Sartor Kesartus," the fruit of a special study of its 
an- many years. M. Barthrflemy is librarian to 

K .1. 

» • « • 

The French version of " Northangor Abbey," announced by 

LtUraturr as about to be published in the H(ru* Blanche, l)eg«n 

in the number for July 15, under the title of "Catherine 

Morland." M. Felix F<<n^ou, the odiU>r of this review, is the 


» • *  

A translation of " The Little Minister," under tho title of 

" Dor Kleinc I'antor," bus been running since the beginning of 

July as aJrHillttim in the well-known Consorvative A'i-ew:-^ei7uii{r 

of Berlin. The translator is Herr M. Barnewitz, and he l>oldly 

re|>ro<luces TSIr. liarriu's Kailyard dialect by tho broad Doric 

vowels of Saxony. 

• « « « 

Tho Berlin publisher Hornmnn Walthor lian issued a volumo 
of 'M.) piiges, entitle<l " Loo Xlll. und der Satanskult," by the 
Rev. J. Kicks, D.D., pastor of a Lnthornn church at (>lvenste<lt, 
near Mngdoburg. Ho gives a full and authentic history of one 
of ihc most shiiincleiis and successful niystilications ever played 
off on a large body of men KUi>po8od to bo uncommonly wise. 
It is <iuite incredible that the forcnumt ecdesiiistics of 
the pBi>iil hicrarcliy should have In-cn hoaxed by so well-known 
and incorrigible ii fureeur as Loo Tiixil, whose oatensiblo 
revelations concerning the devil-worship of the Freemasons wore 
only laughe<l at by tho pnblio in general as cruss inventions. 
A faithful ri-cord of this audacious hoax, such •■■' !''■ !!!••'•■• '""^ 
furnished, has therefore a permanent value. 

  » . 

The publishing-house of J. G. Cotta in Stuttgart has just 
printed a little volume of poems entitled "Aus allorlei Tonnrten," 
by Otto Braitn, of which about one third consist.s of translations 
from tho Spanish admirably rendered in the original metres. 
After the suppression of tho revolution of 1848, in which l>r. 
Braun was actively eiigage<l, ho went to Paris and thence to 
Spain, wlicro he devoted himself with earnestness and onthusiasm 
to the study of Spanish literature. 

Tho Tauchnitz Edition is adding a German translation of 
Mr. (ieorge Moore's new novel, "Evelyn Innes," to its list 
of publications. Mr. Moore has hitherto only been known to 
Baron Tauchnits!' continental readers through his one-volume<l 
story "Celibates." 

Mr. Louis Bccke's " White Men and Brown Women " has 
been translate*! into Swedish, under the title of " Hvita Man 
och Bruna Kvinner." 





.•()-n !rs. 

3ipi>. \a' 

liundnn, iw*". 




A. Junrtrr. Ti 
don »nd Ni;w' Y" 

Juon Edward- 

\ ii» 


.>" 1 




The Bride of Lammermoor. 

I:, V ,. II w/r. ,■ ^\ ,.',', I'. .1  l'.,,i.ii ;■ 


Swaxiland. Ry 

IM. ,_,,..,.., I 7j . 

(ice. Bd. 

< r. Oh. 


1- Ikl, 


. ICK. Hy II 

7xljln.. i;a I)p. Lerwi- 

Memories of th  


Martha an 

fnim <iur 
Andom. Ilhi-i i 

-. wi. 


ur R. 

I .ould. 
>. fld. 

China In Tr«nsiorniBtlon. Ky 

I, I. h„i.i l: I ,.;,,,,! Wild 

•«J pp. 

...-..;. 10". 

Amcrirnn Ht"itorv told by 


History of the Life and RelKn 
or Hi.-hiiiKl the Third, l" 

;.<1 TliuSloryof I'erkili 
New Hcv. KA. VA. hy 

. ,,/«<r. LL.I>. 7}x54iu., 

xu.-t :iw p|i. I8HS. 
C'HiiibriilKu rnivoriilty Prens. 8«.6d. 
The Studio. The EdinburKh 

LI Y. 

Studios 111 11 Litera- 

ture. \ I \i idi inic.1 

■'■ pp. 

.M.K itiiU.ui. jN. n. 
Bacon or Shakespeare? .\n 

Ili.sli>ricj>l Kriciuiry. Hy A". Mar- 
riott. Ui .Uiii., 40 pp. lyiiiidon, 
1888. .stork. Od. 

Flve-i and 

TriK. \Viih 


liDtMlou. UHk UutlUi. kUiut. te. 

k} fv ti. opulUn woode. 

1"! I'i 




.MiK niilliui. Uh. II. 


• hool. h^l • ' 

.M..\.. nu. 

\. Willi I 


Aniuia. ItlB. 

TIM 61 < ' 
don IM*-. 

Tho Niiliire Piji-iiis of Coor>ro 

.Stuck, a*, fld. 


Sufri^estlons for a Scheme of 

Old Age Pensions. Ilv I.UiiDf 

II, •linn, I. M.I'. :\, vxxix. I 

nil |ip. l.iMiiliPii. l.^!l•^. .Vrniilcl. u.r*\. 


The History of Mankind. I'nrt 

27. My y. Ittilzil. Ii>lx7(ii.. pp. :«! 

Id :«1. Ix>ndon and New York. IMK. 

Mtiniiillan. 1n,,iu 

TheNew Manual of Astrology. 

In fnur Itoiiks. Hy IT. (lorn Olif 
('■.Sepliiiri«r I. Sj . ;,i|iii.. xvi.+ 
2U pp. Lonilon, IKUN. Uudwuy. 

The Tupf. Uy Alfnil K. 7". llV.f 
yon. 9>.^]lll.. ITipp. Loililnn. ISW. 
Ijiwrcnre & Hnlli'ii. t»^. 
Sportlnf Rhymes and Pic- 
tures. Tty J. I.. I '. Hoolh. «A iciiii.. 
vlii. + 8(ipp. I/oiidon, 1W)N. 

Kf'Kan, I'atil. .'1h. ImI. 

The Polychrome Bible : 

lH!Vltiiu«. Hv .s. It. Dririr. |).l>.. 
and Her. H. .1. M/nVr. .M.A. liij  
7Jln.. vlll. + llie pi>. I/oml.iii. iww. 
.1, Ctarkr. ti.^. n. 
The Rellirloua Life and the 
Vows. Uv Mons. t'linrltH Hot/. 
■|Iall^,llll<■<i by D.S.H. Willi Iiilru- 
diiiiioii liy Itrr. 11'. T. (lonlon. 
7i > .'lin., 27U pp. I/indon, IHUS. 

Itiirni & (>at4w. .V, 

The Churches of the East. 

Hy the Vrn. IV. M. Sinrliur, I».I>. 
lix.'ijin., l.'mpp. l/oiiilon, IMkH. 

Slork. iH. (kl. II. 

Hero and Hereaftep; or. Life, 

! KUnilty. lly <l. IC. 

\. 7 .-Sin., vil. I 1(1.1 pp. 

I '-. I*artrl(ij^o. |m. 

Twelve Hunct peel IVIIIosontho 
River Miii'i 

\Vilh Ka. 
C 'olotirt* 1)> 
30 pp. Ixi'iiduii, IbUS. Yiituc. 1:;-. 


Edited by Tl. ^1. ?raiU. 

Published by Jltf 7imr?i. 




Leading Article -Count Ia'o Tolntui 73 

"Among my Books," l>y Utginiild lliiKta'8 K' 

Poem I!y till? Hislioi) of Kipon Kl 

Reviews — 

Cliiiiii in Truiisfoi-iiiiition '*» 

The Art. of Wfu- ill the Middle Agos 76 

Hi'itisli (tiiianii — 

•r»ont.v-tlvi> Yoarsln Biilisli Oiiiium -llrilUli Cliiliiii.i . 77 

" Wliat is Aft r' ''■^ 

Till' IikUiih Mutiny 

Diillv I.ifi- (IviriiiK the Indian Mutiny— Two Norrativen of tho 
Mi'llinyin Ilillll 7i> 

Victor HuK" ii« Tnivcllor **• 

Sociological Hric-ii-Hrac - 

Kicli ami I'oor -IiitnMliirllon to Sociology- Wlmt i-* Sdriiilism ? - 
An KlKliI HniitM I)uv Wo-iliTii ( ivHi/jiIiim in ilH Kiimoniic 
Anpoclii-ljiw- of Civilir.iiliun .ni.l D.ray TUc Hilnrn of 
(•lmo« 80,81 

Itooks on Ijondon — 

IjHiaon imd lA>n(lonors— A fJuidi' lo I In' liuililliftll -Tlie Ix>ndon 
(Jnldp Hook -DiHtrirt Uuido to !x>ndon-Tlic liOndon \eiir- 
Hoolv 81, 82 

Mlnop Nottoea— 
.Sonu' lti'inlni-«-i'ncos of ft Ixwtnrcr- Tlie Hiitory of the Temple— 

Simlit'H in Aiuoricftn Litoratiira— The Souvenir Life of Olftd'ttono 
-Wllliiim Moon 



Fiction - 

K.ntaii«lcincnts 84 

Matclot 85 

Life is Lift- 85 

A Stolen Life -Tri'winnot of tJuy''^ Mrs. lie I.ii Itne Sniythr 
Mnlinoi'i's Mnlfrfiiniiliiis -A Tiile of Two Hinif^ -Tho Tmtf'dy 
of a Noso Tlio St. I'lulix C'ato— An Angol of I'ity- llobhcry 
nndcr Ann>i 80, 87 

American Letter— By W. D. Howells 87 

Foreign Letters— Rumania 91) 

Correspondence -Cynino etc HorKonio (Dr. Althaus) -.\ Lesson t<i 
the HiHioriim -The luiniortAlity of Poetry 91, i>2 

Notes 92, 93, 94, 95, 90 

List of Ne-w Books and Reprints 90 


[n one of Mr. Kudyard Kipling's rare excursions into 
satirical verse he has de.scribed tlie early apjjarition of 
analytic criticism under cover of a somewhat appall- 
ing allegory. " It's pretty, but is it art?" is the question 
su[)posed to be sugge.sted, if we remember rightly, by the 
work of a Xeolithic artist to an equally primeval critic. 
We trust that the artistic instinct did not become intro- 
spective at quite so early a stage in the history of mankind 
as this ; but, even if it did, we think we may say with 
confidence that the malady was long in spreading from the 
connoisseurs of art to its creators. Indeed, there is 
iwsitive evidence that not only in the Stone Age, but 
down to a comparatively recent period of the modern era, 
a man who could make anything, whether picture, i>oein, 
statue, or what not, well enough to give delight to 
himself, to say nothing of pleasure to other people, was 
quite content to go on through life making as many of 
the aforesaid things as possible, and leaving other people 
Vol. hi. No. 4. 

to talk about them. If ill^ crmtnf iiiqiiii-.- "i ni" 
IKiwers of execution failed him, and it wan found ix^nible 
to convince him thereof — which i)erhapM wan not an eai'ier, 
but certainly could not have \wen a harder tajfk then than 
it M nowadays — he probably Hubmitteil humbly, in the 
ages of faith at any rate, to the calamity a« to a visitation 
of <iod, and pa-ssed the remainder of his life in seeking afUT 
and admiring the lx>auty which he wait no longer able to 
create. In these latter days, however, we have change<l 
all that. Many artists, esjiecially literary artists, apjiear 
at a very early sUige in their career to be more anxious to 
theorize than to produce, while as to the " practitioners of 
longer standing," they no sooner experience that almost 
inevitable weakening of the productive artistic energy 
which comes with advancing years than they definitively 
abandon their old vocation of " makers " and start afresh 
as talkers, usually with an entirely new, original, and full- 
blown philosophy of art. 

Tliis practice is to be regretted on several grounds, 
not only because it tempts many artists to retire pre- 
maturely from a field of activity in which they may be 
still capable of valuable if less distinguished work, but 
also because it lures them into a field in which it is by no 
means certain that they can do work of any value at all. 
Heflections of this kind are brought very forcibly and even 
painfully home to us by the melancholy of the 
eminent Russian novelist. Count Leo Tolstoi. Of Count 
Tolstoi no one who can appreciate the commanding 
qualities displayed alike in the conception and the 
execution of " Anna Karenina " — to name but one of the 
author's masterpieces — could wish to sj)eak without resjiect. 
Hut there never was any reason for inferring from the jwwers 
revealed in this ami other works of fiction that Count 
Tolstoi's opinions on the philosojihy of art would be worth 
the ixijier on which they are written; and the history of his 
opinions on other subjects, jxjlitical anrl religious, aftbnls 
the strongest ground for exjiecting that they would \ye 
unrea.sonable and unsound. He has recently put them 
forth with much {larade and solemnity in a single volume, 
on which a well-known and experienced art critic comments 
to-tlay in our columns with a fulness of detail to which 
the reputation of the author alone, and certainly not the 
worth of the work, has been deemed to entitle it. In that 
commentary our readers will find so careful and lucid a 
summary of Count Tolstoi's fantastic doctrines that we 
may hold ourseKes absolved from discussing them seriously 
on this paiticular jwige. .'Suffice it to say that, while 
mainly founded on the fairly well-known iiaradox that the 
object of art is not pleasure but edification, their ex- 
l)Ounder surjMisses all other advocates of this same theory 
in perverse unreason by actually contending that to the 
extent to which art gives pleasure at all to the cultivated 
tastes it condemns itself as " bad "' or " false."' True art 
is that which approves itself as edifying to intelligences 



[July 30, 1898. 

of the rudwt order, and, a-x Kuoh iiiU-lIijjences do not 
u^'i ' ' 'lii-al o.xctdtciife of p\ecuti<>ii. j»re- 

fei _ .'st jmil tliose works of iiit whicli 

most offeml the Cooiit'n s]>efiiil ohject« of detestation, the 
artist and I" it fnllows that teihniial excel ItMu-e is 

of its very I id iinrl fori-ii|it. To linve conijMissed 

this arhievement in " victorions analysis " is Tolstoi's chief 
distinction.!  -llietie circie-sipinrers. Many llieorisis 

before him I it down Mr. Kuskin, for one, has 

come near to afHrminjj — that a jKiem, a jiielnre, a statue, 
a symphony is only f^'xnl art, or. at any rate, only fjreat 
art. in so far as the maker of it made it to the glory of 
God, and to express his own fe<'linfTs of devout adoration. 
But nolvtdy In-fore Ti>lsloi has ever p;one so far as to 
maintain that the artistic jierforniani-e will be truer, better, 
preatCT- -in fact, i-an only be true, good, and great art at 
all — on condition that the symphony violate the rules of 
harmony, and the statue the laws of projK>rtion ; that the 
picture be out of drawing, and the poem refuse to scan. 

Nobody, however eminent as a novelist, or in whatever 
other walk of art. ha.** any business to invite his fellow-men 
to step with him outside the region of sanity (within the 
boundaries of which there is abundance of interesting and 
rational matter of discussion) and sit down lH>side Iiiin like 
Alice beside the Hatter or the March liare for the solemn 
examination of so lunatic a thesis at> this. But though 
we resj)ettfully but finnly decline his ]»ro|)osal that we 
should study his opinions we cannot hesitate to accept his 
unconscious invitation to study himself. That his lx)ok, an 
our contributor says, •• is carefully jilanned, delilierately 
reasoned, logically pursued," does not necessarily entitle it 
in our judgment to prolonged and careful examination. The 
utmost rigour of logic is a j)henomenon fre<|uently dis- 
l»Iayed by a of i)ersons whose theories are never 
seriously discussed, except with the object of humouring 
the theorist : and it seems to us much more to the iiurjsjse 
in this ca«e to attemjit a preliminary diagnosis of the 
theorist's own case. It is not a reassuring history. 
Count Tolstoi, after estjd)lisliing a brilliant record as a 
writer of fiction in early life, tofjk uj) at about the ivge of 
fifty with .Socialism of the crudest sort, started what was 
j>ractically a new religion based u\>(m a highly eclectic 
form of Christianity, and develojied sundry views as to 
the relation of music — and cigarette-smoking — to sexual 
morality' which woidd have earnetl for any less distin- 
guished and resjwcted jM-rson the slang American ejiithet 
of a "crank." We are glad that Count Tolstoi is usuidly 
s|Mire<l this indignity; it is an indulgence which he 
has merite<l by those great artistic |)i'riorniances of his 
which he now condemns; but it is really al)sunl anri, 
indeeil, mischievous to carry forbearance any further. 
"Clotted nonsense," to use Mr. Dennis' pictures<|ue 
expression, does not become any less nonsensical because 
it haa been poured out and stirred up until it curdled 
by a dictinguiahed man. The almost extravagant homage 
paid nowadays to the imaginative writer appears to have 
begotten the really j)rep(i»terou» assumption that, when- 
ever such a writer condeacends to open his mouth for the 
purpose of dogmatizing even on the most obscure question 

in the philosophy of his art, words of golden wisdom must 
necessarily issue from his lijis. All this argues an extra- 
ordinary confusion of minil on tiie jmrt of his a<lmirprs. 
There Is absolutely no more rea.son ("1' fn-lori to a.ssume 
that a great novelist, or even a sublime ]MH'<,is more 
comiM»tent to exjMjund the mysterious relations of his 
art to the hiunan emotions than there is U^ imagine that 
a skille<l (H-uiist is (|ualilijt1 in the ratio of his i>rofession!il 
cunning to de<'ide between o]>|)Osing tiieories of the 
metaphysics of i»erce](tion. Tiie poet or the novelist has 
a right to his theories, of course; they are often interesting, 
and it occasionally lmp|iens, as. for instance, in the case of 
Coleridge among \yoels — the novelist does not so easily 
suggest himself — that creative genius, usually, however, 
doomed to early extinction, is united with more or less con- 
siderable analytic power. But that iaa ]»ure accident. The 
creative and the analytic faculty may of loiirse <'o-exist, but 
there is no s]»ecial connexion U-tween them, and one of them 
does not in the least degree pre-supjiose the other. Kven if 
there were any such ]>resum]>tion. Count Tolstoi has pro- 
fusely rebutted it. If there lie one ijuality which is 
re<juir«»d for men who would ])hilosophize on the abstruser 
jiroblems of iestlietics it is certainly balance of mind 
and freedom from fanatical prejsissessions; and the notion 
of turning for guidance to a Russian man of letters of 
whom all we know outside his literary record is that he 
has embraced Socialism on much the same grotmds of 
conviction as a Sunday afternoon listener to a Hyde Park 
orator, and " found religion" in nnnh the same spirit as 
one of the "Hallelujali lasses"' of the Salvation Army, is 
on the face of it absurd. 

Great writers discoursing on their own methods of 
art are all very well, though it is (|uite possible that in 
reality they know much less alwut their mental processes 
than they think they do. But great writers — or not even 
great but only celebrated writers — discoursing on the 
metaphysics of ait, not their own only, but all art, in its 
relation to morality and religion, in its general place in 
the scheme of things — are we not having a little too much 
of all this ? The theorist has long ago been rebuked and 
ridiculed out of his attempts to instruct the man of practice 
in the doing of his work. We even smile at so illustrious 
a thi'orist as Socrates himself, when we find him at the end 
of the Si/iup(>ginvi, '•omi>elling Aristo])hanes to confess 
that " the same ]»erson is able to comjsise both tragedy 
and comedy," and that the foundation of the tragic and 
comic arts is essentially the same. But " in the wee sma' 
hours a^'ont the twal," and when three of the only lour 
surviving members of the jtiirty were "drinking out of a 
great goblet which they |*assed roim<l and rotmd," the 
hontier line between the jirovinces of theory and jiractice 
might well become slightly obscured. The danger, at any 
rate nowadays, is that jiractice should encroach upon 
theory. Every fresh follower of Aristo])hanes, at however 
great a distance, seems to believe himself capable of re- 
writing the Poetics for himself; and our singular public 
believe that, on the strength of his having actually pro- 
duced poetry himself, he must l>e a much subtler analyst 
and profounder thinker than Aristotle. 

July 30, 1898.] 





China In Transformation. Hy Archibald R. 

Oolquhoun. Wilh M.iii-^ ;iiiil l>i.i;,'iiUir^. ii  ."i;in.. xi.  .'WS fin. 
l^iiidoii ttnd Nt'W York, 1808. Harper. 16/- 

'I'lip jtihilant fldiirisli of ♦riirniifts which hri'^ hfialilwl 
fhp piihlifiif ion of Mr. roli|iihoutrf; Iiook is hardly jiiNtiliwi 
by its <'ontpnts. If, howpvcr, tlic very <'(tii.s|ii<'iioits tiotico 
t'lkcn of it in (lie iliiily I'rpss is n sipn that Kn;;lishtiipn Hr«» 
at Ipnpfh wfikiiiR ti|> to the jeojianly of tiu-ir iiitfrp.<<t!< in 
the Far K.iist, the otru-ti is distinctly rav()unii)lc for fnttirc 
sanity. For ail that Mr. ('olijuhoun lias done is to rfjicnt 
(in<l |iioss lioinc with tii'tjfnt insistence what many |km)|iU' 
aci|uninl('(! willi ( 'hina have Iwen ])rcachin;; in a wilderness 
tliPse (illy years. He does not fidly renlir.e what an 
iminetisp amount of iirenchinp; it takes to arouse the 
British pidiiic to any de^re<^ of interest in Eastern attairs, 
and lif» is unreasonably indi(,'nant with successive (rov«'rn- 
ntents iiecnuse they did not march in advar.ce of |K)|>ular 
feelinj^. It is not a fjeneratiou since Kn<^lish statesmen 
were eager to rid themselves of res|«)iisil)ility towards the 
colonies. The imperial idea, as a jiopular sentiment, is 
yet in its infancy. To realize the |K)ssibilities and risks 
of a jjreat ])olicy in tho Far Fast makes much heavier 
demands u|ion the slow imaf:;ination of the average Hriton, 
and we are not in the least surprised that he and his 
(ioverninent have been, as usual, " too late " ill f;raspinfj 
the situation. That they have been too late is generally 
concealed, and it seems to us that time and print are better 
s(>ent in considering wliat is to be done next than in 
reproaching the mistakes of the past. Spilt milk, unless 
it can be turned into butter, is an unremunerative article 
of commerce. 

Mr. ("ohpihoun, liowever, may very well reply that 
unless We study past failure we shall never master the 
secret of future success, and this is the justification for his 
criticism of English ])olicy towards China. The justifica- 
tion would be complete if it is true, as he seems to tiiink, 
that we are still crawling along the old groove. In this 
case such books as his serve a useful purpose in educating 
]iublic opinion and spurring statesmanship towards a less 
ignominious jiolicy. His book is nothing if not ]ioliti<'aI. 
As he says himself: " Tlie work is strictly limited in sco[)e 
to such an account of f he actual China as may interest the 
general reailer, and !)e lieljtful to men of business, jwiliti- 
cians, travellers, and others who may wish to be finther 
informed regarding China. It makes no kind of pretension 
to be a b(K)k for the student." The purjiose thus set forth 
is ade<|uately attained. The liook is eminently matter-of- 
fact. It is the work of a journalist foi- journali-:ts. We 
shall look in vain for history, antiquities, the picturesi|Ue, 
or the rhetorical in its ])ages. The graces of style are 
sterid}' excluded. China, with its ancient civilization, its 
venerable superstitions, its antique literature, might be 
'* NVestralia" for all Mr. CoKpdioun has to say. It is 
better so, for on the practical |»oint he can s|ieak with 
some ex|)erience. whereas the historical aspect needs a 
scholar's long a)i|)rcnticeslii|i. Indeed, we do not quite see 
why .Mr. Colquhoun, being no pedant, should go out of his 
way to newfangle Chinese names like Kaulung (elsewhere 
Kaulun) for the familiar Kowloon. whilst following the 
multitude to do evil in the phrase " coiite qui coiih'." The 
late !*ir Thomas Wadi^ liad the scholai-ship which excuses 
queer reforms of spelling, but if we remember rightly he 
wrote Kowloon. and we are positive he never wrote coufe 
qui doidi'. Why not write Chung Kno at once instead of 
China ? 

As A practical KUmmary of a Inrt'e amount of niati-rial 

^'al her^l from  i tid 

the like. Mr. ( . Ui 

many readers -who may wish to Iv lurtlier tnformwi 
regarding China," and who do not care Ut take the trouble 
to Btudy the necessary reportH and hltie-Uniks. Tliere 
are chapters fin the f>> ' tiI- 

cations, jiress, |K'ople,  nn, 

full of statistiis and de<lui lioii>, and lllll^llHt.M| l.y dia- 
grams that a|ipeal to the most myopic eye. The cha[iters 
on foreign and diplomatic intercourse are too brief and 
sketchy, but it was difhcult to pillory by name the chief 
sinners in the Foreign (tRicp and in the l<<'gation Rt 
Peking; and in laying m- -on Sir Frederick Hnice, 

and holding up I,ord I mi as the only Foreigii 

.Secrebiry who knew how to deal with China. Mr. Colquhoun 
sufficiently indicates his views - with whiih no student of 
dijilomatic history is likely to (juarrel. Hcit the two main 
points which must strike the reader most forcibly are, 
first, the supreme iinjwirtance of British interests in China; 
and. secondly, the author's dee|> <'onvicfion of ' id- 

nent jeopanly. ( )n the first, I'almerslon wils (•!• _ red 

a« usual : " What must Iw the commercial ailvantages to 
this country," he faid in 1801, " if it can have an uiiim- 
jieded, uninterrupte<l commerce with one-third of the 
human race!" Bright repliefl that England ' ' 'ot 

a farthing's profit out of the China trade for i' irs, 

and Cobdeti estimated it at only 2A jkt cent, of the total 
export tnule of England. Mr. <'ol()uhoun clinches the 
argument when he gives figures to show that in 1 896. ont 
of a total value of Chinese exjMirts and ini]>orts amounting 
to fifty-seven million pounds, the British dominions con- 
tributed over thirty-nine millions, leaving but eighteen to 
the rest of the world, "(freat Britain," he adds, "not 
only carries 82 ])er cent, of the total foreign trade with 
China, but pays 76 per cent, of the dues and duties 
collected in that trade." 

This va,st trade is not only in danger of diminution 
by competition, especially from (iermans. and hv the 
various faults and ineptitudes (which are ent: in 

countless consular rejsirts) of the British m;i uer 

and merchant, but runs a near risk of absolute extinction 
at the hands of Russia. This is, of course, the main thesis 
of the l)Of)k, to suiistantiate which would carry us too 
far. We may, however, cjuote Mr. Culquhoun's gloomy 
forecast : 

A f«w yeill'S ticnce Kliriipeitli KiisaIh will Ite liliktxl tn tli(* 

I'iicitir. Hor Sibt'riiiii iiixl M;iii<'hiiriaii pr-' ' .. ii i... i 

tliriiiij;li ,Si)utl\(.rii jMancliiiriii with tin- I.i.i 
liiiitcrlanil <>f that (M'liiiisiila will Ix- lr;i\ 

jjrcat milHTiil vveiillli will h:iv<> ciittTiMl up .■( 

clnvolopiiii'iit. The striitpiiit; |">5iti<>iis I*' m, 

Kiiii'liaii lii'lil )iy Kiisfliit, )iiiHi'iliii|; this hiiiU>rliiii(l ami rnm- 
miiliilili); tile inlaiiil f'hiiifse watitpA, and (lomiinititi;: Pi t:ni_- iikI 
Nortlii'Vii Chiliii nlisnllifcly, will have Infu r  •■» 

will be iii'ld in a vic<<, to l>e dealt with later, .i 
while |ilacute<l liy nn illiiKury fn-e hand there, ami i 
.loutliward iin tlio " rooni-for-twn " thoi.iy. (ii'iniaiiy 
Ihm- liiiitcrlaiiil fiiiin Kiati-t-lmn. and, ' ' 

in Kiiro[H' alid in China, will Ik- a 
pl.irc. . . . Frani-e, in tli'' »oirt.h. 
Kranro-KiiHsirtii alliaiioc. vtill ciiiitin'i 
which \s l<i drive in a wi'dci" n><t •  
hetwpfn Burma and tln' Cp|xv '> i- 

vonr t<i hinder our connpxiiinK. tl: .^ , rn 

hinterlands of Honp-koii^. with \iinnan on the wc«t and the 
Central Yangtuze on tin- north. Japan, having' . om^ to «tt 
arr.inpeiii«nt with Hii.ssia rfganling Curca, ha- .» hold 

iipan thi' Piikion provinoo, with a.spinitiiiis t nd for 

that province, uncourajred alWay.s h\ '  i^je 

will bf the Russian domination of \l . '.hI 

by Britain, of Til«t also: and, shmild th:.- :. .thing 

can »av-e Korth-WeKtern China down to th' »i>. 




I. -it 
>M the 



[July 30, 1898. 

Thi» ^puduiil — not to very gradual — eatinp np of 
China will, in Mr. ('<>!< {uhoun's opinion, and as Meadows 
\'' !*ij"' l<*<td Kiissin to the tlirone 

«>i In this extremity of peril it 

is urgeti that it is nothing less than "a mutter of life and 
death for England to maintain and consolidate herself 
absolutely in the Vangbtze basin, which cannot i»ossibly 
be done except by an effective occajMition of the l'pi>er 
Yan2rt'''e and by developing in every jKissible way our 
VI  itions along that waterway and by the West 

Ki, 1 Hong-kong, and by railway connexion between 

Upper Burma and, through that province, between India 
and Central China." We rather exjjected this con- 
clusion. Mr. C/olquhoun has long identitied himself with 
tl • ^f" of railway communication with Yunnan, 

til- has faile<l to convince the authorities of the 

advantages of his route. Keaders of his book — which is 
essentially a plea for this mode of developing .Southern 
China — will wish for more precise indications of how this 
"effective occujiation" is to l>e carried out, who is to find 
the capital for the milway, and how the j)liysical dirti- 
culties of the line are to be overcome, at a profit to the 
shareholders. We fancy the British taxpayer would not 
be enamoured of an imiierial Burma- Yunnan railway, 
which is here preferred to what the author regards as 
u-seless outlay in Uganda and Central Africa. Nor is it 
easy to see what '* efiective occupation " can do against 
the inevitable advance of liussia, unless the ordeal of war 
be faced. But it is only fair to say that, in failing to 
provide a convincing solution of the Far Eastern jjrobiem, 
Mr. Colquhoun is in distinguished company. He has, at 
least, I " ' leal of information on a political 

and ('■ in, the imjmrtance of which can 

scarcely lie exaggtralt'd ; and if there is little that will be 
new to well-informed reailers, there is nmch that is far 
less known than it ought to be, the consideration of which 
may lie earnestly commendwl to all who can appreciate 
the vast interests involved. 

A History of the Art of War in the Middle Aees. 
Hv Charles Oman, M.A., F.S. A. xS^in. ,<!.■>.'< [iji. lyuifioii. 
I8U<. Methuen. 21/- 

(leneral history cannot deal adecjuately with the art 
of war, and mfxiem military criticism concerns itself little 
with events preceding the camjwigns of Xajwleon. Im- 
jiortant bjittles stand out here and there with some distinct- 
ness from the cloudy annals of the old world. The cam- 
paigns of Hannibal and of Ca'sar are not forgotten, and of 
war n'< I'ractisMl by the (ireeks and Komans we know 
luf There are, h<jwever, viL-^t fields of militiiry 

hi ; ... „..ich are almost untro«lden, for the jiaths are few 
and broken, while the light is dim and intennittent. 
Mr. Oman's work is a monument of careful and laborious 
resear<"h into th<' bv-jwxths of military history. It bridges 
over ::■  ts the methods of the old 

world •■ -ifwhat vague j»eriod known as 

"the Middle Ages,''and shows the interaction of the East, 
West, and North, in building up a recognizetl, if generally 
unwritten, art of war. Starting with the decadence of the 
II I to have liegnn in the 

tl. I he Koman jx-riod to that 

wi g of the Teutonic kingdoms. 

tl.i :... : the Krankish tribes, and the 

Anglo-Saxon conquewt of England. The great grouping of 
Eurojiean .State* umler « harh-magne whicli followed at the 
end of the ninth i-entiirv forms a short but im|>f>i-tiint 
epoch. A ' out: — 

The hoiii _ lonj; rpigii imponiHl upon all tlie 

prorinoM of \V astern K«rnp« wwt n«rer •ntirely lo«t, even when 

his dynasty had digappearod and his rpalni had fnllon nsundiT 
into Imlf » (Idz.'Ii incli'|K'ii(lent States. In tlio history of tlic nrt 
of WHr, this foot is as clear iis in that of law, litorntun', or nrt. 
In spite of all luitiirnl divorgoncios, thorti is for tlio futuro li 
certain obvious siiniliirity in the dovelopmoiit of all tho WoHtern 

The Viking raids developing into invasions, which 
were spread over the ninth and tenth centuries and ended 
in the eleventh century, supply material for an extremely 
interesting chapter. As the author shows, the incui>ions 
of the Northmen exercised a marked influence over the 
art of war in England and France. The methods of the 
sea-borne invaders had to be met by new tactics slowly 
and ])ainfully learned. Fortification esjiecially assumed 
l)rominence ; but to Alfrwl the (ireat un(|ue.stionably 
belongs the credit of grasping and applying the eternal 
principle that the safety of an island State can 
only lie sought upon the sea. " In the very first 
year of his reign he had seen thUt" the creation of 
a strong fleet ''was the one really effective way of 
keeping the coast secure." This princij)Ie wius quickly 
forgotten in the tenth century, as it lias been in 
our own day ; but from the Vikings we derive and 
we have never lost that instinct of the sea which 
rather than any special mastery of military art has con- 
tributed to the creation of the British Empire. The 
decadence of Byzantine jiower had left Asia Minor open to 
the conquering Moslems, who were able even to threaten 
Constantinople, when at the end of the eleventh century 
the Christian l^tates embarked ujwn the long and 
romantic struggle which ended in failure and left the 
Turk free to establish himself in Europe and later to reach 
Vienna. Nothing could be better than Mr. Oman's treat- 
ment of the peri(Ml of the Crusades. He has thrown fresh 
light upon dark places, and he luus clearly siiown where 
lay the weakness and the strength of the champions of the 
Cross.. The Western militjiry leaders disjilaywl a want of 
tactical a«lapt«bility and a general incajmcity to apprcviate 
the peculiar methods of their enemy, of which nuMlern 
history sui)i)lies some curiously similar in.stances. The 
lessons which the Byzantines had learned, and which are 
recorded in the Tactica of I.ieo, and the later work 
lUpi Uapaepofitjf IIoW/job, to wliicli Mr. Oman refers, were 
unknown to the Crusaders, who frequently fell victims to 
common-place Oriental stratagems. (Considering the difli- 
culties — divided command, numerical inferiority, and 
ignorance of geography — the ])romiscuous forces which in 
the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries uj)held 
the Cross against the rising Crescent accomplishwl as much 
as could have been expected. Mr. ( )man notices the curious 
fact that the arduous camjwiigns of the Crusatlers did little 
to .advance the art of war in the " In strategy and 
tjictics it is dithcult to detect from a bniad survey much 
direct influence flowing from the Crasades." 

Of far greater imjxirtance in its effect ujK)n military 
l»rogresH was the introduction of the long bow, the credit 
for which the author ascribes to Edward I. The long 
snprema<'y of the horseman, maintained almost luiinter- 
ruj)tedly from the later days of the Homan Emjiire, was 
at length threatenwl. The infantry of Flanders, armed 
with the pike, acf|uireda reputation as early as the twelfth 
century ; but cla<l in armour and fighting in heavy masses 
their tJictics were essentially def<'nsive. The development 
of the long bow gave to infantry the jK)wer of the offensive 
and soon changed their military «<a/««. "The old idea 
that battles were won solely by the charge of armed 
hors«'men " grwlually disapiiean-il. " .Success " was found 
*' to deiMMifl far more upon the judicious use of archery." 
Archers, however, could be broken up and dispersed on oj^en 

July 30, 1898.] 



groiiud by cavalry, and nH|uired the mijijwrt of inountt'd 
men when acting; on the offeneiive. Tliese and other 
tactical lessons were learned in " tiie thirty years of 
almost unint<Tru|)t('d war between Kngland and Scotland 
wliich Ix'^'im at Duiihar and lasted down to Halidon Hill." 
In the French wars of Kdward III. the long l)ow and the 
new tjU'ticH found application across the Channel, where 
the Knglish archery spread terror. Mr. Oman gives an 
excellent account of t'recy and of '* the far more hazardous 
and far better fought " battle of I'oitiers. The military 
critics of the jx-rio*! considered " that the day of the 
horsemen " was over, and " after ("refy and I'oitiers 
cavalry ceased to be the prejxjnderant arm in Western 
Kurope for some century and a half." England had 
aditnnistered to Kumpe a lesson almost ns imiK)rtant as 
that conveyed four centuries and a half later by the " thin 
red line." 

It is impossible in a brief review to do adecjuate 
justice to Air. Oman's learned and most instructive work. 
The by-j(aths of military history which he treads with 
careful steps are replete with interest. The checjuered 
tlevelojimeiit of the art of war, the influence of national 
characteristics and aptitudes, the action anil reaction of 
weaj ions and of protective annour upon tactics, and the 
evolution of the early fortified camp till it grew into 
the medieval fortress, sujijily the Kubject matter of a 
fascinating study. The continuous development has not 
ended ; the last word has not been spoken ; and, as ^'on 
der (lolz has intimated, the lessons of the Franco-German 
war— now regarded as all-sufficing for the military 
student -will inevitably be su]:)erseded in the near future. 



Twenty-Five Years In British Giiiana. Hv Henry 
Kirlce, M.A., B.C.L. 9x5i'in., x.+:i<l»> jip. 1,.>ihI..ii. l.niis. 

Sampson Low. 10/6 

British Quiana ; or, Work and Wanderings among 
the Creoles and Coolies. By Rev. L. Crookall. s\  :>\i\.. 
xii. +a47 pp. Lt>nil<iii, 1«S)S. Unvrin. 6,- 

British Guiana is proaoiited to >ia iiiidor two entirely 
diH'oront aspects in tlicsu liooks. Mr. Kirke gives us a racy 
picture of the oxclusivi'ly social sitle of life there, and his 
reniiniseenoes are plonsant onougli reading, tho\igh we wish he 
liad sjiared us many of his rhapsodies in praise of drink, many 
of his ghoulish stories almut yellow fever, inipicsts, aud lept«rs, 
and many of his remarks al>out the nudity of the natives, ^^■ith 
respect to yellow fever he makes one vahiahle suggestion, and 
that is that cremation should he introduced without delay ; Imt 
when he lias once told us that the women wear their petticoats 
(when they luive any) roiuid their nooks, and that the men naiut 
themselves vermilion trousers, he has saiil as much as is needful. 

His book, however, bristles with good stories, and he is a 
keen sportsman and lover and observer of nature. His efforts to 
stiirt a " Zoo " in (ieorgetown were attended with amusing 
rt\sidt.i. '■ Wlien we had a large pj-thon in a tub under the 
ho\ise, an ant-bear in the stable, a hacka tiger in the scullery, 
and several small, evil-smelling mammals all altout, my wife 
ix^gan to object," and " the Zoo was a failure." Kvery kind of 
gorgeous bird and butterfly abounds, and the description of a 
" cohunn of butterflies " that took two daj-s to nass over a 
house is remarkable. From l)otli books we loam that people 
witli an antipathy to frogs, mo9<iuitois, beetles, and vampires 
(one of which bit •' a triangular piece of skin " out of a worth}' 
missionary's nose) liad Ix'tter stay at liomo. It must be added, 
in justice to the vampire, that the missionary was sleeping in an 
open gallery, and had refused the usual precaution of a lighted 
lamp near his head, saying that he " put his trust in a higher 
power. '  

.Mr. Kirko, in Npito of hi* dutiox an aherilT, ' of th« 

monotony of life in tlie colony, hut a coniidi . , : lion of 

dancing, (hooting, camping-out, and practical joking aounia to 
have fallen to iiis share. We do not not: - *' - .rd " mono- 
tony " in Mr. CrookaH'a book ; in fact, >■ wa» ao new 
to him that his life seemii to hav« U'eti nia'!.- up <if surfiriiuHi. 
Ho was surprised to tiiul inoxpiito curtainn and no firoa 
in the tropics. Ho w. .\o gather, a* a r<-! vo 
of the London Missionai , and hia book woui' .-ii 
more interesting had it not liuen >wittcn in the atylu ot a loctiirirr 
exhibiting dissolving views. Ho regards a voyage aa a 
novelty and descrilica the pitching of the veM<d, while evan 
the ipialms of hia fellow-passengur* roooivo their me<Ml of notice. 
Ho preached to ub, moreover, un every page ; a lamp beoomea to 
hin> the Lamp of Life, a river, the River of Li' nn, the 
Ocean of Ku-rnity. Kvery i>ago has at least one . many 
of them trit«', and some of hia conversations seem to have Ijwn 
adapUid from Mrs. Itarbaidd : — 

" Do yon t«ke nugar in your ten? " ••ke<l t)i« Uily at thf hrxl of 
the taljle in a soft, municitl voire, and with a pleount Kmile upon h«r (are. 

" Moilain, I like swiet things," I rfjtlietl : " I like a iwn-t fsrr, a 
.sweet ili!>|>c)sitiun, a xwei't i-hilil, and a sweet lady. Madam, like yuu." 
and from this promising l^eginning ensues a long disquisition 
uiM>n sugar and its manufacture. 

liut it is given to few men to do what Mr. Crookall has done. 
All honour to him for the manner in which he carried out the 
work he hiul undertaken, and for the cheerfulness with which he 
faced hardships and dangers. In his pagL>s we find excellent 
descriptions of services held in native villages, of lessons given, 
of poor persons helped in mind and l>ody, an<l he haa a saving 
sense of humour. One of the Itcst portioni of his book is the 
account of his voyage to Kimbia Lake, an adventurous journey 
in which he was accompanied by his daughter, the only white 
woman who has ever been there. The l>arty ha<l to cut their way 
through prin\eval forest, amiti risks of all kinds from tigers, 
snakes, and other reptiles, but the beauty of all they saw must 
have repaid them : — 

Kiinbin Lake is a fine shpet of water three mile* long and two brood. 
Arnuuil it rioes the high ground of the Savannah, with buurhe* of polu 
trees here and there. tlirHi* Its i>3lm.'>. with their tall atern* and waving 
pltunes, making a picture of U'nuty in themselves. 

Mr. Crookall closes his liook with an interesting account of 
the Arawaack Indians, among whom he settletl, whom he 
e<lucAtod up to a certain point, and whom be " learne«l to pity 
and to love." We can quite believe him, and gather from his 
IxHik that there must 1h> much to like and to admire among 
peoples whom we are pleased to call savages. 

The illustrations in both volumes are fairly gooil, and Mr. 
Kirko gives a good map of liritiah tiuiana illustrating the Vene- 
zuela Ixiundary dispute, and also a glossary of Creole words and 


(By M. H. SPIELM.\NN.1 
That Count Leo Tolstoy's l>o<«k, What is Art? (nrother- 
hood Pub. Co., ;$«. (kl. n.), is a very consiihrable work 
it is impossible to deny. Carefully planne<1, di>lilH>rately 
reasonwi. logically pursued, it is a very important con- 
tribution to the science of art. The reader who knows the 
author's views as a humanitarian and as what ho would probably 
call a Life-conception Christian, will make a fair guess as to 
the thesis that will be maintained throughout and triumphantly 
demonstrattd in spite of the skilfid translator's assumption that 
Count Tolstoy's conclusions are " new and unexpect*-*!." They 
are, perhaps, somewhat novel among the purely R'sthetic writers ; 
but that they will come to any thinker as a surprise is hardly 
likely. His views are broadly such as might be entertained by a 
pea.sant— though worked out by a train of reasoning of which a 
peasant would lx> wholly incai>able. He himself assures un that 
the true standard of tasto in respect to true art is that of " a 
resi)ectctl, wise, and «lucatcd country labourer,'' for a country 



[July no, 180S. 

P«MM)t, Iw daeUnia. •nd Mich • iii»n only, eMily'dsteeta • work 
o( true art. •ml i* not t<> Iw pot olf by false. Whore a laU>urer 

aiiiiw..i;,,.' 1,,^ .'!..». ,i..t. « ..> (u. f....,,,i |,„ ,i,H,g not toll lit. 

*-'•" MirHioii, aixl ho frankly 

iluui'i" ••111! HIS iiHii jHinui •'! ji. III. Ho is inBiillioiciitly 

iiilurmtxl. ho •»>«, in the arts, :i vur. ho iMilonps to thu 

. -.hI. 


«• " UmI ail " all lint own vk<>iki> liiil Imh, nnil til lliitsti In- iIim'K 
itut iH^itato to rvlogato onu of tlicni " Yhe I'riaonur of thu 
CaiuMiia " — to thu MM-nnd oliuui. Such an iulniiiuiii)n gainN the 
•atveni, if not Ulu confidence, yf tho reatler, whose anxiiicions 
liave alraatly bu^n aroiiMMl as to tho uniuuiailability of thu author's 
Iftjric ■■■■! ^^ .Ml of tlu- truth of all his statviiionts. To this jwint 
1 si ,tly rotiirn. 

1 MiMi) IS, then, little orij;iimKty ulM>nt Tolstoy's " lifu con- 
o»l>tioii '■ <if art. I'rofi-stior Kiiskin's art philosophy may Ihi 
'« jirHis)- anil brothorly Iovit, with nioru i-tiiolion than 
; Mr. (j. F. Watts' aa charity ani] biiitli«rly lovi>. 
Hith uioru |MH-tiy : William .Morris' as beauty iiikI brotherly 
love, witli iimre calholirity. Tolstoy's is ri^hta of man and 
brotherly love - the whole conc<'(itioii liuse<l, as in the case of 
th* two firat-mentiuiie<l, ii|Min pure religion. One of his trains 
of reasoning seems to be as follow* : — (a) Art has rewards at the 
hands of men beuilderiiigly great ; bnt ((>) art. as snch. has no 
natuntl claim to snch great rewards ; unless (c) its object or 
mission or power is also very great ; therefore («/) its greatest 
miaaioii or objt-ct or auhievenieiit must ei|iially be of the gii'atest 
importani«. which to man is human well-being : conse<|iientlv 
(e ( the chief subje<:t of art must l>e hnmanity . and the chief object 
of it religion. 

Having, therefore, presented in essential extract the teachings 
of sixty of the chief writers on lesthetioa, " from Banmgartitn to 
Herbert Spencer and Grant Allen." who in their separate- schools 
specify beaiity, truth, or ideas as tho aim of art. Tolstoy rejects 
the doctrines of all of them and sets forth his owni (and, as he 
thinks, fresh) conclusions. The object of art is not pleasure but 
Utility ; not beauty, for beauty is oftt^n in execrable taate ; not 
tnith, for truth is often incompatible with art ; not 
idi-as, nor oven Ood, for these do not of themsidves 
afford a sufficiently satisfying definition. Tlie quality 
of art evolves from the subjtsct-matter, and tho spirit in 
which it is produced is infliience<l not at all by the execution or 
the idling. Art. according to Tolstoy's philosophy, is the active 
transmission of the artist's fwlings to others by this language 
of universal all-uniting sjanpathy. those feelings consisting of 
"tions. The best and highest art involves religious is to say, the relation of man to God and to 
. ^iroiind him. Ilius, the subjects |(Ossible to art treat- 
to Ik- divided into two, and only two ; the first. 
those in which the fudings flow from the perception of our son- 
ship to Ood and our brotherhoo<l to man ; and the sinjond, those 
in which they flow from the simple sensations of common life. 
SilKjerity is the moat important quality of all. and, as it includes 
originality and novelty, Count Tolstoy is brought, in ap|H'arance 
iiiUj rank with those artists whom he most deHpises and 
at the presi'Ut day the iliM'uilelits. the mystics, and 
revolt in the name of novelty from every previous 
I of art — whi'ther in |i:tinting, literature, music. 
drafoa, or (lancing— is the chief art phenomenon of the present 

It mnst be Bdmitt<.-d that thin definition leaves to us very few 

••"*'"• •' * '*!•• past or of the present. Pur when, besides, 

'^] and contulnne«l as not only fatal to true 

to humanity, the majority of even thu 

d in till- ilHiinnriation. as relatively but 

' l>y till- r>digion which they 

tliiit inuMWM'S. " Fine" 

• in of tei-hniqiie; 

>■» of the jM'Ople 

. to produce it, and as 

 ■£, , ty, and is not possible 

where art toaching, art critics, and profossional artists exist, it 
follows that technique and workmanship cannot bo considered as 
otherwise than a blemish. Here the author finds himself— though 
he does not oonfees it^— in a difllculty ; for he has to admit that 
an artist who is niovc>d to fashion a Kliitue will be forced to »lo 
so uith as little practice as is neciled by a baker "to bake uloaf"' 
.\n ane<-dote he t^-lls of Hrunoff, however, betrays an admission 
of the neces.iity of teihiiique ; yet all the training he would 
allow an artist is such in.struction in drawing as would Is- taught 
compulsorily to all pupils in elementary schools. In this way 
he would rid the world of that " intense labour to pro<luc>e " 
for the delectation of the wickod " np]ier classes " which iToates 
millions of free slaves of labour among the masses, and calls into 
being the professional artist. 

This professional is to bo compare)! with tho true artist, 
ho i>i-actii'ally says (with De<'ker, if 1 am not mistaken), as thu 
wanton with tie- wife, for in the former case they Isitli sell them- 
selves for money, while, in the latter, tliey give tliiniNelves for 
love; and the author, diH-laring that a gooil work, though incom- 
plet<' to the |M'rvi'rt<-<l ta.sti- of the culturtsl, will not be »o to tho 
lieasant that is. to the majority denounces excellence of execu- 
tion as a quality. appreciattHi only by tho corruption that 
is synonymous with the erudition, perversion, and irreligion of 
t|ie up|K-r classes. Thu demand for technique he compares to thu 
demand for live I'heese and the corrupt liking for "high" grouse. 
'• Good art." therefore, is syiionyiiious with religious jier- 
ceptiiiii. otherwise spiritual brotlierlioiMl. otherwise the essential 
Christian ideal as opposed tn dogma and ('liiirch teaching. It 
is thus that ho undiTstaiids tho universality of appeal -that is, 
goisl art. What he calls " No art," or " coiniterfeit or simulatod 
art," is that which is indilferent to religious jiorcuption, and 
therefore aims only at pleasure. " liad art " is that which runs 
directly coimter to religious jaircoption, and is therefore vicious ; 
and vice it is the presfut-ilay object of so-calle<l Art to dissemi- 
nate—or at least its iinhajipy consequenc-e. 

It will be found- and here we have one of the weak sjxits in its 
logical basis— that Tolstoy's system involves a sliding scale of 
truu art, for his criterion is not constant but changing, accord- 
ing to the age, and its prevailing opinions, in which it was pro- 
diice<l. Thus tho " good art " of pagan times becomes the 
" bad art " of the Christian era. Tolstoy seems to rualixu the 
difficulty of thia viuw : but hu does not suthciontly a<lmit, even 
from his own stand[Miint that his criterion is constant only in 
BO far as the fundamental characti'ristics of peoples do not 

Kven so cool and clear a roasoner as he lias his bogeys, and 
it is ]ierha]>8 but natiu-al that a profeS8e<l Socialist sliould 
find his juirticular Imnshee in tho " up])»!r classes." He is 
nndor the impression that all " bad art " of the day (there is 
l>ractically no " gooil art " — tho pro|»irtion of goml artists to 
ba<l amounting to one to lOO.OCO) is )iro<liice<l by the npis-r 
classes for the upper classes. Yet the most sensitive artists and 
the greatest spirits usually spring from the lower ranks, as the 
author elsewhere admits when, in one of his several self-contradic- 
tory |>a.ssages. ho explains that the {Kiorarethe classes of creation 
and priHiuction. and the rich of consumption and destruction. 
As a matter of fact, tho " classes " follow, they do not lead, the 
artists, and the power to appreciate art does not go by breed, 
else the " upix-r classes " and not the peasants would appreciate 
" true art " iimre quickly and deniaiid it. Vet " upper-class 
art," we are t<ild the exclusive fruit of leisured non-working 
|ieople alio have the power and wealth to produce it — is based 
u|Mjn disbelief, and has broil art criticism and those deceptive 
and distui'liing qualities which are diamotrii-allv upposed to all 
sincerity in art- namely, beauty, [sietry, interest, and striking- 
ness of oiroct. 

Ho up|ier-clas.<i art rri-nim universal art is defiiioil as insincere 
rttnu siui-ere art. But ho says that the sole test of the universality 
of art is its intelligibility. Whatever the {leasalit dues nut under- 
stand is bad f>>r nowhere i|i>es Tulstuy make any allowance for 
dulness of |>erceptiiin in the individual s[iectat<jr or listener— so 
that what is vulgar may evidently be " good " ; indeed, the 

July no, 1808.] 

^^^Bkuthor exprsaaly statin tliut rofineiiient ih bail uiul thnt • chin* 

^^^■(loU niuy bu butU<r iirt tliuu tlio liiiest H>'ul|>tiiiu frmii the iiobloRt 

^^^H chisel of thu ituy. For ovory <]iiulity thitt w coiiHiiluf fiiiu in t<> 

^^^■Tolntoy nutiiintj but corrupt. He i^iiuru!< siinxibility in iiitolli- 

^^^■gibility, und uxccution in Hubjuct-matti-r, uiiii is brouj^ht tu ttii* 

^^^■B«lf-cuntruUictiou : ho uilniitu thut ti'chniijuu wuulj dotoriorato 

^^^■iu such u state H3 liu iiitUKiues. but woiiUI givo j>la<.'u to tho 

^^^Pfieasttiit-H|jirit " a hiui(lri<il tiiiii<s buttiT," unil thut t<<i.'hiiK|Uf in 

itliutlliT fui'ui will iiii|ir<ivi>. Iiiili'cil, by muiltiut; t<> iiitiku ulloti'- 

liiiui- for lituk of Huiiitibility, an of no-uur for iiiunii-. hi- ix ilrivHii to 

(Mnsiihir tilt) Hubtli'txiH iiiiil ruliiiciiicntM of itrt wtiioli ari> jimt on 

thu MiaHNiiH as iio-nrt, anil to ili'nouix-u thoiii aH harmful anil 


Hut, sayH Count I-oo TolHtoy. it Ih all the fault of th« criticii 
whom tliu upiwr oInsKim have hatchiHl into uxiNti<nce ; anil those 
writ«r» who have wronfjiy )>raiHe<l MoplioclnM, AristojihanoH, 
L)ai>ti<, TsNSo, Milton, Hhaki-HiM-ant, Ra|i)iaul, Michai'l Anp'lo, 
Uarh, Hei<thov<n (thu Hi'li'ction Ih [>tirt of Tolstoy'M own) an- 
ilu'i'ctly roK|ioniiiblo for tin- hystt-rical hroinl «f Ibm-n, Wajjnrr, 
Mai'terlinck, f'uvis iln Chavanni'H, Liszt, Ifi'rlio/., Kouklin, anil 
lirahuis. Tolstoy's throry luttiU hint to ilenounuo all tlu'so, ami 
their works jjo by thu board. Michaul Augolo'« *' Lust Judg- 
ment " is " absurd," and " Hiiiiili't " i.s simply " bad art." 

Thu " incompruhvnsiblu .school " of mystics is "bail," and tiny 
tirv incontinently swi-pt away; and, indwd, wf havf here one uf the 
best chapters of Tolstoy's book. Accepting the admission uf 
some o| them that their obscurity is deliberate that is to say, 
uliecttid he does not s|uiru them, liy their unintelligibility they 
reully aim at the concealment of their luck of plot and 
of motive of the .sole true reaxon for artistic utterance ; 
their oharucU'rs do not act U]>on healthy reason ; their subjects 
are subjeclU'ss : their ci>ni|Hisitions ill-com|M)Heil ; and the result 
is—" mystery." To point his moral he quotes Itaudeliiirn and 
Verlaine. .Vtallarme, and Maiterlinck ; he luuaiiluases VVa^jner's 
Nilu'tiiHii" /{iiii/.and even draws Mr. Kiidyard Kipling into his net; 
and then triumphantly asks huw a healthy, intelligent {M-usant 
would describe sueh hysteria, even if he could iiuderstund it, 
and how he could Ihi expected to accept the prevailing erotic 
mania. Ihit habit will use us tu overli><>k the evil tendency of 
such work, even as those whoattenil u spiritualistic a^iiiio' Is-come 
self-hypnotized in spite of themselves. Thus the note of the 
Mystics' art is insincerity. 

So the future of art, had Count Tolstoy the oiilering of it. 
would be its liberation from the degrading perversion of culture 
and its return to prinntiveness. Ah the professional would be 
unknown, the expression of art woidd Ih> sincere and incom- 
petent, distinguished by its mondity and its archaic tenUitive- 
neas of execution. 

Such is the main conclusion of Count Tolstoy's rnmarkable 
book. The work is a nuwlel of lucidity, it is often brilliantly 
epigrammatic, although it is disl'igunsl by exaggerations, by 
rejietitions, by errors of fact, and by glaring omi.ssions, such as 
the name of Mr. Kuskin among aesthetic writers, and Watts among 
the painters. Hut, perhaps, nuich of this is the faidt of thosi' 
on whom the author has chielly reliisl in his rf»uiiif chapters- 
Knight, Kralik, and Schasler. Moreover, it nmy be |)ointed out 
that Worth was a dressmaker, not a tailor, that Leonanlo's name 
was i/ii Vinci, that the Swiss " decadent " is Kiicklin. that 
" bonimont " can hardly be translated " notice," and that the 
l>ollii-f is again misunderstood. 

Mr. Aylmer Maude's translatiou is admirable — a bett*'r piece 
of work has rarely bii-n [lerformed ; and Mrs. Maude's Knglish 
renderings of the French poems, whether as to meaning, spirit, 
or rhythm, are so felicitous that they anu>unt to a tuiir de fuirt. 


Mutiny literature seems to be (lassing tlirough a periotl of 
eclipse. The first flush of vivid personal narrative is long since 
past ; the more or less impartial views of tlie contemporary 
historian have reoeiveJ full expansion from writers of the 
Malkauu tyjMi. We are now in the stage of reminiscences— th« 


wi'll un U < uii alul I. >t 

of their li! Such i- f 

thoir own, but what thoy gain from 

accuracy. It i« hard to «crutinis" t r 

biicuit of a life's voyage, and the kindly critic will only regret 
thut books of this claji!> are not more oft«n printod for (irivate 
circulation. Ho has ceawd to expect from them eitbvr the 
inti'rvst of fresh eX|N!rience or lliat knowl<«dg« uf the actual facta 
which the oHiciul records are now lieing force*! U' diwioiw. The 
two Works iH-fore un have some of thu defectn of thin chiai, but 
they have also sjH-cial iiierit.H of their own. Mr. .lohn \V. >(h»r«<r 
always writes gracefully, and his I)aii.v Likk I' 'K 

Imiun MiTiNV (f^onnon.schi'in, .'Is. 6d. ) repro<lnre« Ij i 

eX|«'ripnres at the time. The book is foundeil on u wru-s of 
letters which Mr. Sheror oriifinally publisiuil in the Af '«'r<i • .Un if 
and afterwards recast for his chaptum in Colonel Maude'e 
" Memories of the Mutiny," IW4. Mr. Sherer brings out with 
felicit'iUK strokes the daily incidentjiof the great trage<1y of 1867. 
One is made to fe«d anew, and to wonder anew at, th> w 

uf the Anglo-Indians of those days as to what wa.i p:i '• 

minds of the natives around them, •luhn Company's ruU i-^smiie- 
times louked back tu as a time when Knglishmen ami Indian* 
Were mure in sympathy and eiitereil mure naturally into each 
uther's feelings and thoiighta. The impression loft by Mr. 
Sherer's realistic ftages is the reverse uf this. From the colonel 
conuimnding the native regiment to the niagistraio uf the district 
or the conunissionur of the division, the whole bo<ly of Hritish 
ollicers Were, with a few excpptioiii, taken by aurprine. The 
outspoken discontent of the native I*ress, however diaagreeable 
to our vanity, forms a .safer substitute for the fiecrecy in which 
the Tiativo mind was then .shroudeil from the Knglish udninii- 
strators. Mr. Sherer tells several excellent aneodot<>s, and his 
volume will Ih' read with jlcasurc t.v thn<t(> w\v enj.iy iniiiiatnre 
painting of the past. 

Mr. CImrles T. Mett'aio- s i »ii .\ mm > .>.M:uAiivr;-> OK luK 
Ml'TINY IN Dki.iii ((.'onstable, 1'2r.) is in some resjH-cts a mure 
ambitious work. It {lurports to furnish original materials in 
regard to thu short-lived revival of the Mughal dynasty, and it 
prefixes to them a lengthy intriKluction in which Mr. Metcalfe 
gives Ills iHjrsonal views as to the cauxes of the outlireak. \\» 
cannot say that his own contribution carries conviction. His 
descriptions of tlie palace life which hud develupe<l under uur 
protection, with the titular King uf Delhi aa ita cemtral figure, 
are indeed striking : ~ 

tluiiilnsis of yoiiiiK men anil wnnirn livinK without orcnpatien ukI 
with little to anuisi' thein ; liiioilnsl.i uf wum-oiit old nuii smj wuiurn 
with iiutliiii|( til liMtk ftirwuril to but the grnve were- (be yuuiig kiii-ii 
liver to lust, the olil to iolrij;iii*. A srheiil uf profpssors nf the srt ef 
eriiiie tloiinsheil in the purlieus nf the King's palitis'. Men itml wooim 
skillfil ill the |)ri.|»nratiuii nf )M)iM>ns, of ilnig*^ tn rniiw* iui< ~ • N^ 

sii as to riu'ilitKte nihlM-ry sml iiii*<»,it, thrtive within the i 
Criininuls, to i'fl<';i}M> piinishnieni, soiifcht refnife then'. \Vi\.^ .nni,....-.! 
i4{uiiiNt wives. tinrloU ni{aiu<it wivrs, niutbeni auniiwt soiiit ; iiwa biuI 
women .*us)urei| the euiintry far aiel wiile for lM*niitiful ifirls t4i m-II *• 
slaves within the p.<il»ce. AssAsmnntioiei wen* frisjiii-nt. sn«i the »ilr&t 
river WHS rinse at band to hear away all traces nf the virtini. 

Hut when we pass from wor<l-pictures to Mr. Metcalfe's own 
theory of tho Mutiny, we do not make much progn^ss. He seems 
unfortunately to have Ihh-ii unaoi|uainttil with thu evidence 
extracted from the military n-cords at Calcutta. In the 
" Two Native Narratives," which he translates into exi-vllent 
Rtiglish, we touch moiv solid ground. One of thusu is by 
an etiucated Hindu who had l««n clowly as-MK-iatwl with the 
English ottioials on the one hand and with the Delhi Court on 
the other. For many years .li wan I..ull was in fact a sort of go- 
between, who, under cover of his appointment aa accountant to 
the princely pensioners, carrietl confidential mes-vigee from the 
CJovornor-lieneral's agent to the King's family. He proved 
fairly faithful to us during the Mutiny, and kept a journal of 
almost each day's events within Delhi throughout the siege of 
tho city. His life was not a happy one, nor are we quite sure 
that his diary, although full of ^mlace gossip, really admit* u* 



[July 30, 1808. 

within the confiileiitial circle of the Court. The otlior " Native 
N«rr«tire *' i« from the liAnd of a Mussulman whoturiiod traitor 
and obtained command of a rr^iiuont within thu city. Aft«!r 
\-arious adrcnturo* he gave himself u]) to the liritiah authorities, 
when the storm had loii^; ago blown over, and was ae(|uitt(Hl of 
actual complicity in the murder of Euro)xtans. He i>nd(>d 
his cbe<|aprvd carot-r on an allowance p-antc<l by a for- 
pvini; (.tovvrnmeut in considuriktion of liis having savml the 
life of Metcalfe in the tirst days of the outbrt-ak. Coming from 
M> tainted a source, his narrative must lie n-ceiviHl with cuution, 
but parts of it form very good n'a<Hng. Indei>d, we know few 
p«Maf;ea mure graphic than his account of Sir Theophilus 
Metcalfe's escape from the city :— 

(^., ,.....),;„|. naria^ng be was met by three sowars, who, pulling 
out ' >. firr«l at him. An rarh maji mi't the buggy, and raised 

his 1 ... Ihi-ophitus laxhcd him arros."i the face with th<- huggy whip. 
KlincliinK frnm the Uxh, rarh Miwar minn-d him. He gallii]»>d un until 
br b<<nune «p|>arat<-<l hy a crowd from hi* assailants, but aimtbor crowd 
ahead liarre<l his pnigrevs, .lumping out of the buggy, he threw ojT his 
coat, pulled ofT his trousers, and ran down one of the many lanes of the 
rity towards the g.irden boust- of Madub I):ihs. On his way he hail sud- 
denly come across theKesalilar of the Rajah of Jujjur's Caralry. Maboinnied 
Khan by name. He called on this man to give up his horse, but he 
refused. On this Sir Theophilus suddenly seised him by Uie leg, tilted 
bim out of the saddle, wrenched the reins from his hands, and, jumping 
on the horse, rode hani for the Choree Bazaar. Again be was headed by 
•owars. He turned, and was pursued by them in the direction of the 
Ajmere Gate, through which be passe<l and n»ched I'ahargunge. two books brinj; out in high relief the very various 
aspects in which tbe Mutiny jircscnUKl itself at the time. In 
Mr. Sherer's volume we sec the civilian quietly iHtrforniing his 
daily duties as if unconscious of the dangers around liini, up to 
the moment that he got killed or was driven from his post, and 
then, if he hap|)cned to be alive, quietly resuming them the 
moment that actual fighting ceased. There is something very 
English about this impassive heroism, and Mr. 8horer has 
done well to make us rcali/.e once more our debt to the 
district officers. They reaped little glory, although they 
ran dangers as great as, and more protracted than, those 
of the battlefield, and their tenacious grip, each man on 
the patch of territory entrusted to him, was worth many Imttles 
to tbe English cause. In Mr Motcalfo'j Ixxik wo see how the 
Mutiny appeared to a Hindu who know how to save himself 
without compromising his loyalty, and to whom the British re- 
conqueit meant rescue from daily abuse and from threatened 
maancre. In Mr. Metcalfe's other " Native Narrative " we 
lukve the view of the situation as seen by a Mussulman who com- 
bined the unscrupuloiis daring with the regard for his own safety 
which, but for the Hritish reconquest, might have made him 
a litader of men under a revived Mughal dynasty. 


The years have playe<l many ciuious tricks with the literary 
fame of Victor Hugo. Posterity's judgment on the author of 
" Les Mist-rabies " is no sooner uttered than reversed. One 
bears but little nowailays of the Hugo cult, ami that in spite of 
tbe strong supjiort offered to such a cult by the great<!st of 
living poets. Vet Victor Hugo was a towering, a gigantic i>er- 
oonality, a hero ready made for worship. Thk Alm and Pvubn em 
(Bliss, Sands, 7s. 6<1.). was worth translating and publishing, for 
it reveals something of the tumultuous jjowor, the wonderful 
wealth of his genius. These letters picture him as a man living 
high above tbe plane of average iiumanity. He was no ordinary 
touriat. There is nothing of the guide-book in his descriptions 
of strange scene*, strange peoples, strange histories. His mighty 
train biizsed with questionings ; watching the finite ho always 
nought the infiniti-, the visible interested bim because it 
sngge«te<l the invisible. 

No one could rea<l these letters and doubt their author's 
life-long siiirnrity. Tliey are not tbe work of " Our Sjiecial 
Correepondent,*' written to order for a critical public. Matiy of 
them arc the iMer..«t jottings, most of them private letters, but 

all breathe forth tlie spirit of tumidtuous otiergy of Hugo, the 
politician and )>aniphleteor. In all of them ho is first the 
moralist, then the man of letters. 

Porhai>8 we shall bo able to give some idea of the fascination 
of the volume by (juoting a few characteristic sentences. Take 
the following instances, culled at random, of the jiower and 
daring and jiicturesqueness of his expression : — 

Behind I'ilatus and on tlie shores of tbe lake a crowd of mountains — 
old, Italil, and difonned — jostle togetbir confusedly. I have a blurred 
impression of all these goitred, bunchliacked giants crouching in tbe 
shadow aroun<l me. . . . The I'oplar, like tlie Alcxanilrine, is one of 
the classic fonns of boredom. . . . Tbe colour of this pool of water 
is disquieting. One would take it for a great tnbful of vcriligris. 
Of the view from tbe Kigi-Kulm ho writes : — 

Mountains eight hundriMl feet high are wretched warts ; forests of fir 
trees are tufts of furze ; the Lake of Zug is a WH.<.bhand-basin full <>f 
water: the Coldau valley, that waste of six s<)uare leagues, is a sjuideful 
of mud ; . . . the towns of Kussnncbt and Arth, with their illuminated 
steeples, are toy villages, to hv put in a box and given to children as 
New Year's gifts ; men, oxen, and horses are no longer even grubs — they 
have vanish<-«l. 

The Ali« are to him " great billows of granite. •One seems 
to behold an immense ocean frozen in the midst of a tomjicst by 
the breath of Johovah." 

Turn from his pictures of nature to his studios of men. 
" A revolution is not a gardener ; it is the breath of 
Go<1. It passes once and everything crumbles : it passes 
again and all is reborn." '• So, everything in Spain is in 
ruins. The houses, the dwelling of man, arc dovoatHtitd in the 
fields. Religion, the dwelling of the soul, is devastated in men's 
hearts." " Everything in Sjinin is capricious, eontrailictory, 
stronge. It is n mixture of primitive and degenerate manners, 
of sinij>licity and corruption, of nobility and bastardy, of pastoral 
life and civil war, of beggars with the bearing of heroes and 
heroes with the look of beggars." 

Hut isolated passages can afford little idea of the striking 
charm of these letters. Once road they will be turned to again 
and ag^i, for they are a veritable treasury of good things, and 
they disclose, as nothing else has, the nobility and greatness of 
a wonderful |)ersonality. Mr. John Manson has translat^'d the 
letters skilfully, but ho annoys us at times with too jiorsistent 
foot-notes. What does it signify if Victor Hugo made mistakes 
in giving the height of mountains ? Ho is no Baodokcr. 


It has been said by a jirominent living ecomniiist that the 
increase of " intelligent philanthropy " is one of the most char- 
acteristic and hi>iHiful features of modern times. Mrs. liosauquet's 
Rich and Pik>r (Macmillan, 3s. 6<l. n.) is probably among 
the best of tho books written for the guidance of men and women 
interested in philanthroinc work, and a second edition will be 
welcome<l by all social students. Its aim is, we are t<dd, " to 
help some of those mon and women of culture and refinement 
who are anxious to share the goiKl things of their life with their 
jv>oror neighbours, but who are imcertain how to l>egin to find 
their way through tho labyrinth of ' Social Work,' to indicate 
some of the jxiints where they may usefully ap|)ly their energies, 
and to l)romote, in however small a degree, a better understand- 
ing of what life in a [sKir neighbourho<Hl really is." Mrs. 
Bosanquet has painted a living picture of the parish in East 
London which she knows best. SIio shows very clearly what are 
the difliculties which omfront tho worker, and she says much 
that is suggestive as to the way in which they may lie met. 

Mr, Stuckonberg, who is the author of an Intkoduction to thk 
Sti'dv ok Soiioi.oov (Hodder and Stougbton, lis,), is an American 
who has studied in Oermany, and is anxious to give bis fellow- 
countrymi'n tbe benefit of his Eurojiean research. The book may 
|Hissibly |irove useful t<i students of sociology ut Cambridge, 
Mass., ami the " Reflections *' ap|«iide<l to each clia|)ter, though 
somewhat conunoiiplace, might suggest subjects for college essays. 
Mr. Stuckanberg's object is " to open tho way to the uxtunKivo 

July 30, 1898.] 



KDciiilnfrical litoratiire In vnriniiR InnRuaRoii." Wo can only hope 

t)iat liix |>ii|>ilH will linil thitt it rullilx tliKsn |iur|HiKeH. 

Tlio niithipr of What im '< ( f dliiHtor, 7«. V*\.), who 
ootiooiih liJM iiluiitity iiixlor tlio Nomowhat nioaiiiii^'loiiN iHuiiKlonyiii 
of " Sootrihiini," IM iniicli alarinml l>y tlix rapiil ^routli ami 
vigoroiiM iiropa^aii'la of Socinlisni. Mn exiH)K<>M with Hiillioiciit 
oluarnimH hoiiio of tho fitllaoioM of thi> SocialiHt |M>Hitioii ami tin* 
NtatomtmtM mailo for |><>|mhir conxiiniption, which arc iniitiially 
contradictory to an almoHt alwiinl ihifiroo — «.//., that Kngtanil 
oii^lit to proiliicn foot] for all hor iiihahitanti, but that, at the 
xaiiiu tiniu, all tint cotiiitiy kIuiII bo fronh aiul greon, ami oj>en t<> 
the |iulilio ; or that, a^'ain, iiianiifaoturiiig towim shall coaHo to 
oxiHt, although i«in'ti('iilly all work is to ho ilono hy iiiafhinory. 
It is a pity that tho lH)ok nhoiihl Ixi writtoii in tho Nuini-alni.sivo, 
sonii-oollo(|iiial Htylo, whifli its author soomH to liavo horrowoil 
from tho Soi-ialist litoratiiro he Imn Ntiiilio I Hooxtensivoly. 

Mr. Shaxhy'« littlo hook on An Kkiiit Hoikm Dav 
(Liberty Review PubliNhiiijj Company, 2s. 6<I.) is written 
from a strongly point of view. Its author 
ackjiowlodges frooly that " a gonoral roiluotion of tho 
hours of labour is likely to a littlo nut national loss 
ami much moral gooil " — to <pioto ProfoH.sor Marshall -but 
ho is anxious thiitthis should ooino about by voluntary otl'ort : 

Many i'x)irrimi'ntii have bi'cn atti'iii|>ti-d ... to scciiri' for tho 
i'ni|iloyi'(l mon- li'i»uro, nion> hialthy ronilitioiia of workiiiR, or highir 
WttRrs. If till" (■xix'rimi'nt has fniliil, Stato notion oannot rom|iol siuecMi. 
If the ex|«riment has sucoeodiil, Stale aotion it not necessary. 
Tho forco of some of his arguments is lossonod by tho fact that 
ho fails to distinguish cloarly botwoon the ipiostions iuvolvod. 
For instance. Is an eight-hours day desirable ? Sliould the State 
regulate the hours of labour ? Should it enforce tho regulations 
made or conditions laid down by tho working classes as ropro- 
sontod bj" their unions ? If any of those measures are desirable, 
are they practicable ? But if Mr. Shaxby's occasional lapsoa 
into confusion of thought and his evident capitalistic bias be 
allowed for, mucli that is useful and good will bo found in his 
littlo work. 

Dr. Cimiiigham"s Rshav on Wk-stkun' Civii.rzATioN- m us 
KcoNOMio AsPKCTS (Cambridge I'nivorsity IVoss, 4s. 6d.) is an 
attempt to trace out tho growth of industrial life in the earlier 
stages of Western civiliitation. There has long boon a need for 
some such history, and Dr. Cunningham is, of course, peculiarly 
well fitted for tho task. Into a very small space ho bus managed 
to compress much that is intore.sting, careful, and suggestivi". 
To unilerstiuid the West, the historian must first study tho Kast. 
Ono cause of tlio downfall of both Kgypt and Chceuicia is hero 
found in tho fiuit that they wore iniabln to raise adequate food 
su])plies on their own soil. From the Phu'uician colonies of 
exploitation Dr. Cunningham turns to the (Irook colonies of 
settloniei\t, which present an economic .system of a iliH'erent 
kind that l)a.sod upon the indopondent, self-sullicing city 
State, and the chapter devoted to Greece is perhaps ono of the 
most interesting in tho book : — 

Tho history of flriok economir di Tolog nient give.s U8 in a nntshell, 
a-» it wiMv, the hintory of tho world : there is seen the transition from 
natural to money economy, and the growth or luoditicution of the three 
chief ty|ies of social oi'ganlzatiim nnilernionclarr conditions , , , No 
entirely new ty|>e has since been creiitod ; the hotisihoM, the city, and 
to a ccrt:iin extent tlie empire- each with its own economic side — lay 
within the cxiierioiieo of the Greeks ; and to-day we have not uat- 
lived thi'iii. 

Thon wo pass to Rome, Carthage,' and Constantinople, and wo 
may compare tho cautious statenu>nt of Dr. Cunningham upon 
tho decay of tho Uoinan Emjiire with the somewhat rash asser- 
tions made by Mr. Hrooks Adams, a second edition of 
Law of Civir.iZATloy ano Dkcay has just ap{»ared (Macmillan, 
7s. (kl.). The thesis of this work is appar-'utly that tho 
contraction of the currency is the cause of deiaiy — it would, 
indeed, seem to be a skilfully-disguised plea for bimetallism. 
ConsO(|uently, Mr. Hrooks Adams, with some confusion of cause 
and oti'oct, attaches excessive importance to the shrinkage of tho 
currency, and omits to jioint out the real evil -the shrinkage of 
production, the lack of productive energy, and expenditiiro. He 

oompuroii tho nsiiiting condition* •■' ' i, Kiiro|i<- n .,i 

Italy under the empire an int Imt do< la. 

parison, for under the empire all i 

decreaood, whereas in miMlern En- 

onormoiialy incioased. Tho " Law oi 

with its piotiiresijiio lari_Mi:iL'o, its .- t| 

brilliancy, and friMpient "noaji, la r,f 

an able man, but even It ' rvuut 1(1111 II 

it gootl history. 

Tho author of Tiik RrruK.v or Cbaok, ( . .N. .-..hUti 
(Kegan Paul, 7«. C*!.), a<lopt« k j(n-<U-nrclr view of history. He 
holds that this worlil moves in cycles. Th' it 

l^atin F.mpire, which, aji we all know, di-ciio' ,t<s 

passed, and another groat Latin I k'hu, f>/r ulmtwoore 

pleased to call niodorn Western i . :> is, it would .ippenr, 

a Latin Kmpiro. Itiit this also, us imy aliident of '!i- 

century literature may assure himself, is in a state oi c., 

and we aro moving rapidly towards chaos. The writer 8iip|iorta 
his position not only by copious ({notations from Kloriis, Sanli, 
Ibsen, and other well-known historical authorities, but by tlio 
general structure of his l>ook, tn-jited as a whole. '" ^ as 
it dot'S the whole field of kiiowle<lgo, it may l>e \< « 

microcosm which illustrates the great cosmic muveiiunt. Ami 
the attentive reader will lind himself at the iind where ho 
was at tilt! beginning, or, if ho has a(lvanoe<l at all, a trtllu 
nearer chaos. 


It is 8ai<] that M. /ola once regretted his want of English, 
because it debarred him from talking London as a subject. 
Perhaps wo may Ixt thankful that tho groat town must always 
remain hieroglyphic and undecipherable so far as M. Zola is 
concerned. London would novor yield its M-crtft to the methoil of 
" documentation," to the statistical, mechanical plan which M. 
i^ola has adopted ; tho " wilderness of " must be felt 
and not reckoned up. But the author of " Paris " Iwing out of 
the i|uostion, one wonders why some K)nglish man of letters as 
]>ainstakiiig as the Frenchman, with the ad<l' of the 

creative imagination, does not dclilierately \nV- . ts his 

subject, tho source and inspiration of a sorios which v 'o 

'• Lourdcs, Homo, Paris " seem a small achievement. '>n 

had the sense of what London means he sikw tlutt it was as full 
of wonder and enclinntiiient and advunturo as any legendary 
forest or storied Eastern town— and some of ns nuiy regret that 
ho loft tho streets for tho Highlands. Mr. Gissing, again, knows 
minutely cortttin asjiects of London life, but his outlook is some- 
what limited, not to say materialistic ; he has seen the 8<|Ual(ir 
and the ugliness and the moan struggle of Ijondon, but, 
apparently, ho has never realizeil the splendour and glory that 
are hidden l»cneath a grey and grimy veil. Dickens, of, 
was I.oii(liiiiiinUximH», and the pictures ho has left us are unsur- 
imssablo, but Dickens' London was tho London of the 
eighteenth century : a city bounded on the north by Islington, 
on tho south by I^mt-streot, on the oast by Wapping, and on tho 
west by tho " genteel " rosidential neighlK>urhoo<l lietween 
Oxford-street and tho Marylebono-road. Iiulccd, the London of 
to-day did not exist in Dickens' time : what could he know of 
Cricklcwood and West Kensington, Anerleyand I- 

We await, then, the niteit itacr who is to «• 
and to make it epical. Till the c ird we must fall 

back upon tho mere of izr. n the dry detail 

which they provide as to cab-fares and tho dome of St. Paul's. 
Vet even here all is not barren of imaginiktion. In Ix)xi>ox axp 
LoN'iioxKits, for instance, a compendium edited by Rosaline 
Pritchard (.Scientific Press, 'is. 6<1. n.\, among much mcn'ly 
useful information which we are Ix^und to say is intelligently 
and clearly arranged, we come across tho following gem, recon- 
structing the history of Hampton-coiu^ Palace : — 

It 19 full of memories of the [wst. of the .lays when the " Mrrrr 
Monarch '' bi'ld sway here, to whom the palace and its fair deniesoe 
were presented in 161.*i by his all-powerful Minister, Caplinal Wolsejr. 




[July 30, 1898. 

 ' ' "• ..I, but tlic por«j«>ctivo 

IK T<1 THK («l'IL|lll,VI.I., 

,. >: Mipkin, Mnrslinll, U<1. n.), 

,, i^ , nil ncoouiit of tlio origin i Mn-.T of the anciont ami honouriilik< niuniciiwlity of London. 
Thk I^'MHJS Otii'K-BooK, compilwl by Kthol Montague (Court 
Circular, 6d.), which contains all the usual details of informa- 
tion, is distinguishwl by a feature which should appeal to those 
who love to dine. Mrs. Montague is not content with mention- 
ing the names of n-atauninta ; she gives " suuiplo " menus of 
dinners as aervwl at half a dozen of the more notable estiiblish- 
menta, so that the ffounnfi may he enabknl to choose the way 
which seems to him the best. " Canard snuviige roli " and 
'• Consomme aux Profilerolles " are strange courses, but no 
doubt the printer, not the cliff, must claim the credit of their 
invention. But on another point Mrs. Montague falls short of 
perfection. Under the betuling " Where to Stay " she is content 
to irive a list of expensive hotels, all in the best quarters, 
• that the wealth of some of us is limited, that certain 
'• both cheap and decent, that boarding-houses of all 
-t in all parts of London, that oven " lodgings " have 
•r some misguided souls. Hoot's District Guide to 
LoxDox (Sami»on Low, Is.) has the a<lvantago of some very 
olear sectional maps. But the gem of our collection is 
ctrtainly Thb Ix)SDOX Ykab-Book (Grosvenor Press, Is.), a 
collection not only of facts but of fantasies. The facts are not 
always reliable ; there is a list of clubs, for example, which 
omits all mention of the Iteform Club, the Isthmian, the Junior 
Carlton, the Marllioroiigh, and several others, but a good deal 
of the refei-ence matter is excellent and well uji to date. Wo 
may note " A Biograjihic Dictionary of Di.stinguislied 
Londoners," " The English Drama, 18!»7-98," " A Guide to 
Current Literature " ns highly meritorious features ; but the 
original matter is the distinction of the " Year-Book." The 
frontispiece is a lustrod reproduction of Beard.sley's strange, 
" Scarlet Pastorale," and there is some admirable writing in the 
" Brevets of London Character." " From the Diary of Lixzio 
Simpson " (in the employ of the Aerated Bread Company) 
coiit ' strokes a this :— 

\' iDg lit the ilcppo dariiiff t<!s-tinie about the hiubands we 

would lii:< , anl then KUen Hnnkins got »yiDK about her going to take 
• Turkinh bsth bfforc »hp got married. Bo bosntful. 

But a few weeks ago wo note<l the extreme niritj' of the true 
satiri'- rrift. nrx} we ar«i therefore sorry for the iiicliisiun in this 
out le of Mr. Lawler's " Flagolluni Stultornm," 

hut  I is duo to " A. L. N.," the inventor of a now 

language calleil " Clarisoii." It is prolmblc that no one but the 
inventor will get as far aa " Yo ave frapi lun frecora," which 
is '• Clarison " f or " I have often struck him " ; but, none the 
leas, the attempt is ingenious, and worthy of the most cosmo- 
politan city in the world. 

Mr. Fmleric Harrison has n-ocntly been (-xliorting idealists 
to prepare for nnd IrmV forward to the London of the yours to 
come, a I '''is and pleasant places, of fountains nnd 

flowers III ii«r. We all long for that shining city, 

but in the meantime we must observe London ns it is ; Loudon 
ugly, grimy, mi»-sliapeii, but yet tbe most vnrions .iml intinfting 
uf all the towns on earth. 


Dr. ^  rollectod .SiiMK Ukmimkcp.nikh 

or A T.r » ""ine excellent stories r>f the 

it Imve Iwialli-n him. On ' n, in a 

U-, the l<>ctiirer was much n i by the 

r«atless and inattentive character of bis audience, and informed 

the aecretary that : ~ 

Tb« only iotcllifrtit prnoes i«eine<] to be two row* of U<lle« and 
- •- ' - '*-r -'nlU, who followed tba lertare with the elonst 

from the neighboorin 

"''" he replied, "were tba luaaties 

Another lecturer, discoursing on " The Telephone," invite<l the 
minister ami the " ruling older " to tent the instruments. The 
minister spoke into the appliance and tho elder listened, but 
could hoar nothing. The two men changwl places but the result 
was the same. The lecturer was in ilospnir, and lK>gan to express 
his regret " for tho defects in his iiistruinouts " : - 

" Don't ai>ologiz(>. Sir I " ^hontcil tlio man in the front of the 
gallery. ** You mayn't be aware of it, but you've cIiommi the two doiifrgt 
men in the inriah ! 

Thk Histouv of tiik 'i'l'.Mri.K, by .\li'. G. I'ilt-J-eHis, V.C. 
(Long, Is. Cd. ), is an excellent account of one of tho most illustrious 
of our Inns of Court. One is inclined, however, to feel some dis- 
trust of the author when ho tells us that the <iuanol Itetween King 
Henry and Beckot arose from the desire of the clergy to impose tho 
Civil Law on the Rnglish people. Tho chief matter in dispute 
was, surely, whether the clergy should bo amenable to tho ordi- 
nary criminal jurisdiction of the country or should lie tried by 
Canon Law before tho ecclesiastical courts. And Mr. Pitt-Lewis 
can hardly be speaking seriously when heifeclarcs that the clergy 
wished to render the Civil Law universal :- 

Because the Civil ijivr, binnR in Latin, would be understood by no 
one except tho prie.sts, and woulil luive been utterly unintelligible to the 

In tho first place the skilled lawyer of tho middle ages know 
Latin, and in tho socuiid placo no dialect or language could 
possibly be more unintelligible to the ordinary laymau than that 
extraordinary speech called " Law French." Even at the present 
day, after many centuries of simplification, the innocent layman 
is often pu/.zhHi by " Ics termos <lo la ley." 

IVofessor Charles Noble, the author of Sti diks IN' A.MKiacAN 
LiTF.R.vTi'RB (Mttcmillan, 5s. n.), has not always been fortunate 
in the quotations be has made. In a sense, no doubt, the " Jiells " 
is very characteristic of Poo, of the ingenious, elaborate trickster 
in verso, producing his efTocts with the pra<"tise(l skill of the 
limelight man at tho theatre. But there was another and a 
higher Poe, tho author of " To Helen," tho inventor of dicani- 
landscapes in poetry which the great seer Cob-ridge might have 
added to tho enchanted scenery of " Kiibia Khan." In the same 
way " Mark Twain " is presented by Professor Noble as the 
author of '• A Yankee iit tho Court of King Arthur " (not " at 
King Arthur's Court "), and in this case one feels that consider- 
able injustice has been done to the inventor of " Tom Sawyer " 
and ■' Huckleberry F'inn." There are, however, many nsofiil 
and instructive things in tho book, but we wish that the author 
had been content to l)o loss lompleto, to select the names of 
palmary importance, and to neglect tho multitude of the third 
and fourth rate authors. There is little use in merely iiii-ntion- 
ing the fact that " ballails and elegies and songs and descriptive 
pieces flowe<l easily from the pen " of .Mrs. Sigonrney ; and the 
space that is occupie<l by dozens of such very " minor notices " 
might have licen devoted to a more oxten<led review of the great 
achievements <if American literature. 

Tiik SorvKNiii LiFK OK Gladstonk, by Mr. .Tames ISurnloy 
and Dr. .lajip ( Kny, Is.), nnd Tmk Lash NVk Lovr. by the Ri(v. 
Charles Bullock (" Homo Words," 28.), are amiable trilmtes to 
the memory of the groat statesman. " The Land Wo Love " 
announces itself as " non-political," and we can only bo sorry 
that it is not also " non-contmversial," since the attempt to 
show that Mr. Glailstono was a Low Churchman is, from the 
nature of the case, futile. Mr. Gladstone was tvt Hitimlist— he 
iinderstixKl as little of 8yinlK>lisiii in worship as of symbolism in 
literaturt! but doctriiiully he belonged to the school represented 
by tho lato Dean (!hiircli, and thus was far removed from the 
party which claims the exclusive right to the epithet 
" Kvaugelical." 

WiLMAM Moon, and his Work for the Blind, by the Rev. 
John Rutherfiird (Hodder and Stoiighton, 5(1.), is a record of the 
successful improvements in raised type for the blind cfrecte<1 by 
Dr. W. Moon. One must remark as esix-cially ingenious the 
emlHwsoil maps and the oinlx)8s«l geometrical figures which are 
illustrated in tho volume. 

July no. IRDR.] 




Ah ! Sir, thefie things are nothing now, 
The deep wide j,'ulf before me yawns, 

Into itti mystery shnii 1 fall 

Kre yet another inominfj dawns. 

TlieKe vex your soul and fret your hrow, 

liut they are uolhiii^ to me now I 

You tell how fiercely men contend 
For Cliurches and for forms of faith, 

Kor jihrases orthodox or not, 

How .small are these in sight of Death I 

One man who loves the dear Christ well 

Takes the blest bread and knows Him nigli ; 

Another seeks to east him out 

With senseless talk of " Ix)w " or " High." 

And one who. finds Christ everywhere 
Because he hath Him in his heart 

Is counted excommunicate 

By those who claim in Christ a jjart. 

Men \vorshi|) Clirist witii well-meant rites 
And add new bunleus to life's load, 

And others think they honour Him 
By tumults in the House of tiod. 

ISIen wrangle over lengthy \v<.)rds, 

And nice define the " how " and " why " — 
What matter how the I,ord is there 

If we but have Him when we die ! 

All this to me is nursery brawl 

Of angry children over toys. 
Pettish and puerile are they all 

When Death's great deep lifts u[) its voice. 
These tliintrs are notiiins to me now 
The cold grave-sweat is on my brow. 

To me there nothing is but Go<l, 

And that great love which can forgive, 

A sunlight scattered all abroad, 
A life whereby the dying live. 

The love of God is all I see, 

The rest is nolliin;'' unto ine. 


Hinoiuj m^ Boohs. 

—  — 

When a consiilerable man of letters dies in France 
he is, whether officially an Iinmartd or not, invariably 
acclaimed as one of the permanent glories of his country. 
When a similar personage is taken from us here, his grave 
is scarcely closed before we are told by the obituary critic 
of a certain type that, " great as his talent (within well- 
tlefineil limits) was, well-deserved as his popularity, yet " 
— there always is this yet — " for our part we cannot thihk 
that his fame will endure." We were told this of George 
Kliot, of Kobert Browning, of Matthew Arnold, and I 
know not of how many others, and, indeed, the formula 
recurs so continually that one would think that it was 

kei'L 111 >lereotJ^>p. As thin judgment i- inai m im- 
reputeil critical exjiert who is called on to deliver 
himxelf for the benefit of the man in the itreet it ix 
entitled to rps{»oct. Perhaps it would Ix- mor- 
if the critic matle any effort to explain wl, 
factors are on which jiermanent fatne de])end«. At any 
rate they would lie worth in\' ' ' g, hut to investigate 
these is not the nuxle. Tin . and it is a delight- 

fully Himi)le jiractice, is to assume that literary immortality 
dei)ends on the judgment of the critical ex[iert, with his 
jH'netrating gift of analysis, his infallible eye for dis- 
tinction, his sensitive feeling for style — all those modeat 
virtues, in short, which so endear the critic to the author. 
It is just this Jifisumjition which, I venture to siiy, is not 
regarded by the rest of us as justified by the facts. 

Of course £he chances of what we call immorUility 
are nowadays vastly different from what f the 

days that were earlier. No modern cki; _ ver 

jwrsonally conscious of divine guidance, is likely to 
emulate Omar at Alexandria. W- 
without being guilty of Moj 

the German EmjKjror, even if he had crushed France 
and England, would not destroy the libraries in the 
Hue de Kichelieu and (ireat Bussell J^treet. The 
development of printing and the State Library have 
made it certain that all our jwets (it will !■ lient to 

limit this jierfunctory iucjuiry to them)— • minor 

poets — will exist (on pajjer) for many thousand years. 
The 90th century A.V., if it still measure time by tliat 
era, will not liave to deplore the loss of the only complete 
copy of a 19th century .Eschylus, if such there be, which 
I am far from suggesting. No n ' ' u will have 

to be guessed at by a few disjoint' -. But the 

same qualities which have made for immortality, in spite 
of less favourable conditions in tl '" ' ike 

for immortality under the more - of 

the future. And if we look to those who have achieved 
inunortidity, we may roughly come at sun - as to 

who confer it by studying the (jualities the \ _ . Now, 

one thing that seems certain to me — as certain, in fact, as 
it is in theory probiible — is that the i ' ' ' .in 

immortality have won it l>ecause the_\ uu 

bculties found in the average man quite as much, perha{ts 

even more than, in the " sui -^'e 

man, too, has varied in all ui: iie 

other sort,  because he has taken himself less seriously, 
]>articularly in matters like religion and pi ' ' ' lie 
the intellectual "quality" has been sjk'c : to 

these disturbing influences. The latter was, for instance, 
Stoic under the (^onstitutionii' '" is of Rome; he was 

sentimental-philosophic in F. ..ire the lievolution ; 

he has been Catholic, Protestant, Freethinking — what you 
please, in England, and always deeply affected by his 
belief or unl)elief. But the average man has always lieen 
a total abstainer from philosophy, and has taken his 
religion with as little ado as his breakfast, and with like 
wholesome results. At the present day the tyjie of this 
})erson, whom Mr. .\rnold, loving a neat French phrase 
well rather than wisely, defined somewhat "accidentally " as 




[July 30, 1898. 

rhomme tennul moyen, is, let as ray, the average under- 
graduate grovti to maturity. That, in England, this sort 
is now t' " .ritv of the rending ]>o|)ulHtion is ohvious. 

It is li-, ,: he always was so, in all countries, " hy 

Thames* or Tiber's side," under Caepar, or Stuart, or in the 
Victorian era. It almost follows that he, as representing 
the larger, not the sujierior i>er8on as rejiresenting tlie 
smaller, class, must «lecide whether or no a poet shall 
be 1 ' ' ' ' ' I in the finnnTnent of fame. If so, it 
qn.; r larger class will guide its decisions, 

by the presence or absence in the ixtstulant of the (jualities 
that api^nl to it, Prolvi' ' ' is the explanation of the 
&ct that the number of - Hores, men of the second, 

even of the third, rank, who have attained immortality to 
the prejudice of (in some resj)ecls) larger men, is so con- 
siderable. It sugge.-ts that their gooil fortune is due to 
some special qualities, more attractive to the average man 
than volume of intellectual jwwer, or analytical subtlety, 
or academic dignity of jtose. What he does seem to care 
for, what we find in all his favourites, great and small, is a 
much simi>ler thing, which can perhaps best (though not 
exhaustively) Ih" defined as the thrilling quality. And this 
quality is presented to us in two principal manifestations. 
We recognize the first when a symj>athetic hand magically, 
or with a skill that counterfeits magic, awakens feeling by 
striking with absolute sureness the common chord of 
passion — love, or hate, or Jiity, or jtatriotisni. We recognize 
the second manifestation in the sho<-k of delighted surprise 
at the extraordinary felicity of phrase, which, in a flasli, 
sets forth all the characteristic beauty of a scene, a mood, 
an action — 

All till' cliami of all the Muses 
Often flowuring in a lonely word. 

Of course, the world-poets with Shakesjieare at their 
head, rightly worshipped alike by all, possess both faculties 
in perfection, and others to boot. But it is not tliese great 
ones that alone have conrjuered a place among the 
immortals : it is a much more varied tribe, including 
writers like ( atullus and Horace, Ilerrick and Wyat and 
liOvelace, Bums in his Scots jioems and Wordsworth in 
his sonnets, and the noble army of ballad-makers who rest 
ip ' ' es. It is by the thrill of horror in the 

cry nostra I I/esbia ilia I" it is by the thrill of 

vengeance of " burd Helen's " lover, rejieating — 

I luickcxl him in piori'S Kma' 
¥>>r Hit iwkc wln> <lii-<l for mo : 

it is by the thrill of des]iair in the heart-broken voice — 

Ah, waly, waly, hut love hv ))oniiie 
A littlu while whuii it is new— 

tltat these poets live for ever in the hearts of common 
men, .So, when we come to contemjwrHry judgments, we 
may guess that it will not he by the Ix-wildering al)undance 
of the imagery in the " House of Life " that Uossetti will 
be remembere<l, but rather by t^ueen .lane's whisiK-r into 
her dead lonl's ear, telling the fate of the last of his 
murderers, dear! under the torture : — 

Jameii ! .lame* ! i\u>y •ufforiMl more. 
y«' • lat sets the blood tingling with the 

ml savagery. 

Of the other sort of interpretation there is a striking 
example in Blake's prayer to the Evening Star — 

. . . SjKiftk xili'iH'o witli thy glimmering; eyes 
And wash thi> dusk with silver - 

a dozen words that furnish forth an entire landscape. 
l>o, too, of " the uncrnmpling fern " of .Matthew Arnold — 
in its small way almost worthy to lie set with Shake- 
speare's " dafi'odil, that comes before the swallow dares," 
for together they resume the music and the movement of 
the earth in spring. 

These examples might be multiplied a hundredfold 
by others equally trite, and no one w ill, 1 supjiose, dispute 
that they are of the things that the man in the street 
understands and admires — will always understand and 
admire. What is the true note of distinction ? what of 
refinement ? what the preciousness' of recondite philo- 
sophy ? — these are the concern of the critic. His opinion 
on them must vary, and probably go on varying, at least 
until somebody discovers an " objective canon of the 
l)eautiful." But the average man cares for none of these 
things, and yet surely what we call immortality is in his 
gift. Sj>eaking as one of this humble class, I have 
essayed to suggest what are the tests it applies to 
aspirants for the aspluxlel-crown ; hut one thing I will 
assert confidently, and tliat is that it has never yet been 
bestowed for style alone, unaccompanied by the gift 
which the common man recognizes as interpretative of 
his humble feelings. It may be saddening to the in- 
tellectual aristcxTat to suggest that immortality is but 
the i>ersistent recognition of the crowd. The only comfort 
I can suggest is the belief, held by some enthusiasts 
of progress, that in the fulness of time the crowd itself 
will Ijecome a solid mass of superior jiersons. 1 think, 
however, that most of us would sooner face annihila- 
tion than a prosjject fraught with such iwtentialities of 

|{K(ilNAIil) HUGHES. 



Entanglements. Hv Francis Prevost. ",' > Ojin., 
3M pp. l/>iiilnii, i.'^is. Service & Paton. 3/6 

There arc few young novelists of the present day whose woik 
is worthy of s<> much, and has roceivixl bo littlo, attention »« 
that of Mr. Francis Provost. The extromi' roslraiiit and relino- 
nicnt of his art has doubtless stood in thi< way of his work to 
general admiration, hut it is curioim that these cpialities have 
not brought his name more fri>i|ui>ntly u|Hin the lips of those who 
<leem literature a necessary jmrt of rictioii. It is in the short 
story that Mr. Provost, so far at all events, has proved himself 
to excel, yet how many readers of fiction know oven the titles of 
"Rust of Gold" and "On the Verge," his .two former 
collections of short stories ? Tf there are any short stories in 
KngliNli wrought by a more delicate artist or filled with a more 
extpiisite charm than the liost in "Rust of Gold " or "On the 
Verge," we have yet to hoar of them. Mr. Prevost makes a 
strong demand on his reader's inUdlect. lie diverts the 
intelligence an the average novelist diverts the want of it. He 
charms with style, with unexfiecttid tinns of thought and feeling, 
with spiritual complication, as the hack-writer alarms with 
nteliNlrama and murder. He is always a writer to whom writing 
is an art and at his Inist ho is a consummate craftsman. 

July 30, 1898.] 


So liigli inilccfl hiiH Iwou bin in;liii<vi-ini>nt tlint liii InNt 
vdIiiiiik, " Kiituniili'iiicntd," in iU I'litiroly falU much Iwlow Imk 
iimiiil HtHiiiliird. With Um cxcoptioii of oiio story in thu voliimi' 
111) gi'i'iiiN to linv(t choHiiii Kubjcotii whicli would iippuitl to u 
liuniir |ml>li(! than the Hiihtio HtiiiUon of hiH former bookH. The 
lirst story in tlio v<ilunio, ciilhxl "'A M«xliiition," in nn unploiumnt 
<-ol|it]wu into imiloilnimii, nnrtKh'enioil ovun by tli« writing of It, 
whild tho IliiHNiiin and tho Sonth Siui Htoriiw iiro by no nii'a!i8 
didliiKitlvo or diNtinKiUHhtid in thi'ir mutter, ovi-ii if their 
niunncr Ih without blomiHh. Tho onii story in th»« hook, cnllcil 
" In the Vidh-y of DociHioii," whicli is full of Mr. Provost's 
highost chiirni, Ihiiuh ii plot almost too slight for narration. It 
is nu^roly that of a man who bning obliged to marry in ordiT to 
contiiaio tho " yt'oman [xidigri'ti " of his family, roturns to his 
inistrcsH, [H'rploxod in minil whutluir to marry hor or somo ono 
moro ploasing to his paronts. As sbo is ono of Mr. Provost's 
most charming women —and no novelist has drawii women moro 
oliarn\ing than his -the issue is in no doubt from tho commonce- 
mont of tho story. She had always mocked at marriage, the 
limn reminds her. 

*' It rri^'hti-ns iiirn," she huiil, Kiiiiply. 

' ' Ami iit"lri*wai'(U ? '* 

*' AfU'iTvaiiU ? " Nile ftskctl. 

" Yon still inovki'il ! " 

"Ah!" she sighril, " coiiM I lijil yiii prnlU ami then rull ttic 
))iii'e '( ' ' 

" 'I'hr price, " he ciieil, " Nn, iiii ; Ihiir was iicithiiiK that coiilil lie pniil 
fiir. You were too proud to give the self that ymi hail liiniied. You niv 
toil prouil still. 1 thiiik, to (,'ive it now. " 

!<lie iliTW him tnwaiils hi'i-, and leam-d her lips down against his ear. 

" Will yim sUal it, dear," she whispered, " if I look the ether way 1"" 

Of another typo of woman, the frivolously bad, ho givos an 
exainpio in " Instabilities," a brilliant and somewliat vi-nture- 
some tale. It begins with an Italian masked ball which is 
terminati'il iinploa.santly by an earth<|uaku. The account of it 
must 1m' eintailod. 

The (loiii-s of the |>alaee were fluii),' wide oisn, making in tho dark 
piirtieo a siitlileo wiuare of light, hiaeked three \tn\{» out im the instant 
Ky a elotted of humanity, which, with an afipalling fn'iizy of 
■-''reaming, squeezed itself slowly forwni-d over Uie fan-like step« and 
spread in an ixtending ililta U|Kni the jiavement of the sqiiBie. . . . 
The daiK-ei's riillapsed whert^ the strength of terror left them, 
ereuehed. kneeling, or flung flat out upon their faces. ... I was 
wondering what would eome next, when, with a long rolling purr as from 
xiniu nionstrous eat, the ground began to vibrate gently bvuenth our 
fiet. A wailing eiy, swelling, spreading, rose like n smoke of sound 
fi'Om that floor of living things, and the next instant it was a vague 
whirl nf curtUing eoloiir. which eseapeil from the square hy eveiy exit 
like wat*'r fnuii a lifted sieve. 

It is to be hoped tliat Mr. Provost will not allow the 
teniiiorniy unpopularity of his work to tempt him to write Indow 
his idoal.s. He has proved himself to be capable of admirable 
work, and tho reatlers of his former short stories and of his 
longer novel " False Dawn '" will be regretful it he does not 
fulfil the promise of his former books. We have little hesitation 
in expressing our Iwlief that Mr. Provost will -if ho is true to 
his ability -produce some abiding literature. 

Matelot. Hv Pierre Loti. 7fx5Jin. Paris, 18l»S. 

Calmann L6vv. Pr. 3.50 

Piono l.oti is a wiitir oi iiiniiite and pathetic sonsitivonoss, 
a man of nerves and ever-changing moods, and withal so o|>en 
and sincere that even in his hooks ho never seeks to His 
writings have a strange jwrsonal charm ; they arc largely confes- 
sions of personal sensations. lieliind and beyond all his books 
you are able to read tho man. Thi>ro is the Pierre Loti of 
'■ Pecheur <rislniide " and " Men Frere Yves," a true son of 
the restless, saddening sea ; the Pierre Loti of " Aziade' " and 
" Madame Cbiy.santheme," tho tired cynic in search of exotic 
excitements ; tho Pierre Loti of " Ramiintcho " and " Figures et 
Choses qui Passaient," tho student of the dying present and 
decaying }>ast ; the Pierre I,oti of " Le Livre de la Pitie' et de 
la Mort," the jiitiful analyst of sorrow: the Pierre Loti of 
" Lo Desert," " La C!alil(?e," "Jerusalem," perhaps the most 

I of all, the svekor aftur truth. Kvory votuino 

1:. 1 of the !tinn 

in " .MaU'lot " ! "i returns  It in a 

singidarly artless ;i' story, e\ ^r who haa 

never caro<I for the intneaoios of plot*, it tvlls of a young man 
whom the Boa daimefl and killed, an<l of the young man's mother 
who waite<{ on tho quay at Itrest for his home-coming. That is 
all. Tho history is trite, dven to banality, yet th«^ pity of it 
grijNt you with cold, steely tingi-rs, the saJnoMi of tho simple 
tragedy clings to you like a shroud. 

Tlio young man is tracked by misfortune on land and on 
sea, until, broken and dying, he starts for homo : — 

II I'ut d'alsii.t I... stiiiHuiH iiii'i I'lliili \ (1> n til., ii iiiii <. .Ill, tiik 
vigiiuii'UX, qui I; 

mt^mes Is nmlndi' i 

Avait si bieii semhlc qn uiie tois ioiti de I'i-tuve (-hiiti>i»4', il - 
pen il'air innrin et de In joie du retour pnur le gu^rir. 
rien n'y fnisait plus. Kst-ci- que vrniinrnt il m.- si'mit mm eit n>ut«' 

un IK'U tard 'i* Et, |H>nr U prrmicrr fc>i«. nn jii'tr. nii r^Viil 

imrlicubunmi-nt lueide et angiiissant il'un skt: 
lui apparat ; au sortir de ce sonuneil, il \< , 

dans itnv MKroussi^ d*i>|Htuvanti-, ci>tiiroe di'vaiit uii guullic vidv, ui. 
inuiiense oil il se si-rnit senti prcs de tomher. 

The long agony of his light for life, and his death alone, fur 
from home, is descrilNKl with simple tondunioss. 

Kt le quatricme jour du roup <!(! vent, datu le paroivninr di« funnnt 
declininc'es, dans In grande clameiir et dans l< 
sa niurt survint, preMpie inu|M'r<;ue des mnt 

exci-x de fatigue el de danger, eu i'taient m. rji. mniH m. ut ' 

sortu d'aniinnlite farouche. 

They buried him while the storm howle<l r 
bad failed in everj-thing everywhere. Yet at evi 
peace. The mother, full of revolt and bitterness, bows at last to 
the unseen. 

Oui, 8eigncar, je me aoiuiicttrai. Oui, je vivrai, je tmraillcrsi, 

je ferai de inon niieux jusqu'i I'heure oil vous mo rapprllem i vein*. 

Across the empty waste of her loss she lutars the Iwlls that 
brought hoiK) and healing to Kamiuitcho, " O, Crux, «ve spes 


Life is Life. Ami other Tabs and Kpi-on,... iiy Zaclc. 
7)1 x5jin., '.iSS jip. Edinburgh and I»ndon, IStS. 

Blackwood. 6/- 

This collection of short stories mny fail ♦•• arr»'st the iitt»'n- 
tion it deserves, from its eontainii , . 

no relationship with each other. I i- 

pressiou created by the half-dozen little sketches which give the 
book its value. Tho remaining tales are of the ordinary maga- 
zine order, and may be dismis8e<1 without remark, the disct-ming 
critic being tho more readily reconciled to the author's inability 
to pro<luce polite conventional stories in view of her striking 
power in another and less hackneycti tiehl. In the story calle<l 
" Widder Vlint," in which a phase of common life is iHirtraye<l 
uncoloure<l by any strong jmssion or emotion, the art rise* to 
such a degree of jierfeotion that it almost ce»j«s to h.' :>rt. W.- 
are listening to an actual exjierience, we hi. 
dialect and the tones of their voices, wo are t 
careless or sympiithetic, of onlookers in the little drama tliat is 
enacte<l in our presi-nce. 

Widder Vlint, hur wex disr^spnrtit in tbe viillairp. 'aving homeil drpp 
drunkards, tho' the naylwurs we« kind o" 7 '.ir now an' 

an' when hur xon, .liwh. weX dmw»l vrom l.niiik hi  

they jest ii'd that "wan o" tu drunk." ^\ an nn< nioon I li 
into zev how hur wex gitting on. cnx tbcr wex a nioast kin.! 
iniell <i' fried htcon eoniin' droo the door, xo I xat mrr- " > ■^•■ 
n kind o' n'lation o' Widder Vlint's, tho' I didn't : 
zept at innit times an xich. cux ■>" *i'" I."".' .... ..'...i 

xeeimil to me hur didn't take m 

hur wei thic turrible sit on her cli- 

in xich things. Wall, I 'adnt bin vivc mn he door, v 

got talkiti' o" 'em. tho" I diiln't vind no sj.- -t in tb« > 


" I've a gr«at deal to be tliankful vor, a deal," hur wed " ther 
wex Tiunmas now — " then hur stapped quat ; I reckon 'twes 'ard ev«o 



[July 30, 185)8. 

r«r hur to riod wiTthiait rarounomc to ujr o' Tuninuu. " Wiill," bur 
dBwdlad on " ha tud * wunilt-rrtil 'ra<l o' hair, had Tuiiiuiaii. I'tmr Iml '. 
hm wta «'t> ..1 InJ to inr ; lie braut mc tlio viirot xbilliu' that ever 

b* anM lia kinder t Ilk it back . . . Thru tlirr wc-x Jitsh," 

bur <ui>°. ...M ... !ia that «r<-i ilnwrnl rrom hi* hoM an' brauk biii nrck 
. , . Ha bad a wondrrrtil kindiddlin tmilr o' tliiiri, bail Joiih. . . . 
•a' wbaD tbrf braul him 'oinr to oh- thr laat tinir, an' layod him down 
m Um comer o' ttu' kitcbm, thickey nnile wpx on bia fac« kind o' 
pamrul IiV<-. I stapiR-d aside him druo the night . . . An' I 
kind <' 'Z bow ha wra i-x a little lad. I knawt-d ha hadn't 

•Iwaj- n y Tor tbe beat xince ba hai) grawiil to l>r a man. 

. . . An I Tell a-xobbing quiet like, rox I didn't want to disturli 
bim, poor iamb, Imt ha jest xmile<l on. Tbe pare o' the Laud ain't 
like our pace, it ain't to he Imuk, it ain't to be brauk." Hur slappetl 
abort an' wan banging girt t«-ar fell atrat in the pan. I thort twez a 
mortal pity to q>ile good baron ao, apriihul ex Josh waa the biggist 
rapamllioa tbat ever walked ; Imt I cudu't help liaing a bit xorry ror 
tbe poor owld dumman, coi 'tis the way wi women to get terrible vond 
o' tnab. 

The (tramatic furoo of the xt^iry, the inexorable shadows tliat 
pursue the priiici|>al liguri>8- for WiiKK-r N'lint has one non left, 
ilriven irresistibly at the very moment of fortifying himsolf with 
his oath, into the cry, " Moathor, moathor, 1 reckon the diink 
'nil ave me yet " — the deep and affecting tenderness between" 
mother and child, are intensitic<l and heightene<l by the key, 
•lutaiuetl throughout, in which the njatter-of-fact, curious, yet 
not wholly insensitive neighbour describes the scenes and words 
•nd gestures. We have left ourselves no space in which to s]X'nk 
of " Dave," " Rub Vinch's Wife," ami " The Storm," which 
display the same grasp of truth that is universal, the siinie vivid- 
ness of presentation, which, whether due to intuition and insight 
or to actual experience, are the life-stuff out of which gi-eat 
novels are croat«<l. 

Writers of the marvellous have done their convincing in two 
ways — by careful, plausible details, with hero a grain of science, 
there a touch of hypnotism or any other " ism " which has 
an occidt flavour, or they have possesstKl tiic reason and the 
■MUM by inspiring sheer horror, if only in a passing flash. 
Stevenson and Poe have taken hold of their thousands by the 
second method ; bo, in a minor degree, has " Q." Witness 
*' Dr. Jekyll," " The Black Cat," and " The Real Householder." 
Tbe last tale does not, as it hapiiens, deal with an absolute 
impossibility ; but it is a jierfect illu.ttration of the nrtful way in 
which a 8<^'ntence or two can have prtii'iuely the same effect on a 
rational being as his sudden awakening would have in a room 
which the moonlight peopled with strange shapes. 

In A Stolen Like, by Matthias McDoiuiell Bodkin, Q.C. 
(Ward. Lrfx-k. 6«.), the impossilile has Ix-en prest-nted as if it 
»•' v, and by neither of our two typical methods. 

1 ' 'f the book, in the hands of a master of his craft. 

Hi out with immense impressiveness. Mr. Bodkin, 

1* : genenil outline and the end, which is sincere and 

ought to l« artistic, has made little of it. His hero is a young 
doctor, pre{iost«rously gifted, preposterously celebrated, and 
answering to the name of Vivian Ardel. He is overdrawn, but 
the book is an extravaganza : what should the hero of such be 
but an extravagance ? As well create a fairy princess and deny 
licr golden hair down to hor feet aixl eyes like the forget-nii^ 
not* in the river. But, having stiirte<l the cxtravnganza, the 
author B|i»ils all by the inert tamenoss of his writing. Vinan 
Anlel has ev«'r)'thing that mortals jiniy for, but he is tliirty, mid 
ha feels nothing but his gruesome nearness to the grave. The 
morbidity of it is rather fascinating. But then, enter the 
impossible an<] exit the interest ! A little child is dying of 
diphtheria. Dr Ardel, with a few drops of a mixture 
all his own, restores the patient. Tlien steps in temptation. 
If ht! '   which young 

life en (1 t<i the veins 

''f iitiide to Mr. 

li •) it, resolving 

to think it <\ and the infallible 

physician (. I ,.■- , .. l ■- i.Us and relatives of 

the child troop in to intjuirc for him they find Dr. Ardel babbling 

with the fretfulness of a sick infant, while their offspring regards 
them with the u|ipi'aiHing st)ire of scientific thirty. Hero is a 
situation that mi^lit be eerie as well as dniuiatic. And this is 
how Mr. BtKlkiii handles it: — 

" My (Sod ! " Eva cried out, ns she looked and beard. " His reason 
has sliai)]ic<l undur tho double strain. He lias saved us both, John, but 
at what a cost I Better my twy ajid I were lyiug dead togt'thcr than 
this nhuubl be." 

The thing is summarized like this in a sentence or two, and 
then taken for grante<l for the rest of the book, and the uncanny 
nionient iiiisses for ever. The end is jirotty and natural. The 
boy with the man's bo<ly falls in love with a very young girl, 
who feels that she could love him if he wore not "so old"; 
and the elderly man imprisoned in the body of a youth seems 
half ridiculous in the eyes of the mature woman whom he learns 
to adore. Tlio situation is conceivable enough, and is workwl 
out engagingly. Dr. Ardel yearns for his middle-aged Ixxly 
again, while the youth has naturally long felt his grey hairs an 
astounding incongruity. Airalogies onsiie . . . restitution . . . 
and (need we add ?) a double wedding. Uii the whole, the little 
book is fresh and amusing, but mild—mild when there is no 
mildness wanted. 

As for Mrs. Coiilson Kcriiahan's Trewinn'ot ok Gvv'k 
(John Long, (is.), its marvels are probably unconscious and lie 
in the direction of one series of remarkable coincidences. London 
appears to be about the size of Kensington High-street. You 
cannot lose sight of a young woman in it. If she gets away 
from you and leaves no address there is no occasion for alarm ; 
you will find her umbrelhi or her card-case lying about, and will 
know it by the smell. Now, heroes of novels are not intelligent 
greyhotinds ; and it is possible to live quite a long time in 
London without oll>owiiig one's aunt from the country, one's 
rejected sweetheart (also from the country), the shameless hussy 
(from another part of London), and the interesting stranger who 
turns out to be connected with most of the other characters. 
Such a state of things would make one quite uncomfortably 
self-conscious. Next time Mrs, Coulson Kernahan writes a 
bright, readable book like this one, wo should like to bo able to 
believe in it a little more firmly. 

Mr. Uiccardo Stejjhens, the author of Mus. Dk La RfK 
Smvtiie (Bliss, Sands, 6s.), gives us, in the form of a substan- 
tial volume, a series of articles or conversations, which, agreeable 
enough though they may have been to read in an evening 
newspaper, do, it must Ims confessed, prove, en hloe, a trifle 
wearisome. They profess t<» contain the record of conversations 
Imtween Mrs. De La Hue Smytho, a vulgar jiaircnue of the first 
water, and Dr. Ti-egeiina, in which it is made the business of the 
latter to extract for our divi^rsion the views of the former upon 
such topics as The Spirit of the Age, The Position of Woman, 
Tlio Duties of the Unier Classes, Love and Matrimony, 'J'lu^ 
Place of Art in Life, and so forth. The thing is done with some 
skill, and Mr. Stephens writes at times with a pretty satirical 
humour, but in the comparison his book directly challenges with the 
" Dolly Dialogues " we cannot say tliat the palm rests with him. 
The crisp cynicism, the light touch, the amusing ellipsis, which 
made Mr. Anthony Hope's booklet entertaining, Mr. Stephens 
does not command. Still, there is pleasant reading in the book, 
and any one who bought it to while away the hours of a railway 
journey would not be likely to regret his choice. Many of the 
cha])t<'rs are illustrated— not well— by Mr. W. (5. Bum Murdoch, 
and Mr. Cliarles Robiii'-.'M in riNixmsilili. for the evtroinclv u^'ly 
design on the cover. 

The title of the Mutiskkhh, by Arthur E. .T. Ijcggo (Lane, 
(5e.), suggests the marriage ijuestion. (>n first ojiening the 
book we come across such chajiter headings as " The Kdge of the 
Abyss " and " The Other Hide," but we never actually reach 
the Divorce (.'ourt— -ljocaus{> " Ijiicliesis Intervtincs " In theshiiiie 
of a sUi'plechasor carrying an inconvenient huslinnd on its 
lieck. Thi! young man who wiist Ik< calle<l the hero starts with 
hacy Socialistic notions, sleeps under archways, and wants to 

July 30, 1898.] 



reform tlio world, tmt ovmitimlly tonus down and inarriii* n wifo 
willi monoy. On tlin wliol«, tlio mutiny in not of a vory violi-nt 
kind. The lx>ok would Ui unmtly improviMl l>y |irunin;; ; it drills 
II little in the miiltUe, and the introduction towiirdg the done of 
a youuK woman of the Btroot-walker cIhm i« a serious mistake. 
Apart from those fnulto, the story is a pioil one. The c-hiiractcrs 
are for the most jiart riml and lifuliko, and suvorul uro of 
exceptional merit. Here Ih a sample of Mr. Logn"'* clover 
dialogue : — 

" I HiipiKiHo you never allow Sir ThoinM to throw people orer 
iKiw," rcmnrkeil (llailys. 

" (»li, Toiiimy i» ililTorent. Ilcniiios, he's riiliculom tho other way. 
Do you know, before we were eiigiiRoil I had ijuite n qunrrel with him 
ripc Hl)Out » stupid old iiunt of lii.H. Ho win Roing to dine with faer, 
lid r wanted him : anil when, aftrr great ditTimUy, I (leniuailed him to 
telrgrapli and nay lio was laid up with intluenia, he rame to tlio o|H'ra 
with u.t, and the lirst iiomon we Haw was his aunt, sitting in the opposite 
box. And he wa« ipiite angry with «if, if you |ilea>o. Ho talked 
■oleiiinly about the sanctity uf the truth and family duty, knd all sorts 
of things. Dear old hoy, hu is so ronsoientious. Most men wouldn't 
hare minded n bit, and I was fo glad that hf did." 

If only Mr. T.onno will keep away from unpleasant subjects, 
his work cannot fail to secure a welcome. 

Mifls Ada Cambridge's books are seldom exciting, and 
Matebfamilias (Ward, Lock, 3«. 6tl.) is no exception to the 
rule. It is an Australian story of domestic interest, sym- 
patheticivlly, and, indeed, rather fiushingly, written. It is, 
hdwovor, only fair to say that as tlio story is told in tlie first 
l«irson the jjush must lie a.scrilied to the narrator. No |)ains have 
!>cen spared to make it a faithful picture of real life. Wo are 
ivon uvun the dotailH <if a Sunday dinner : — 

Phyllis had deeorateil the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had 
surpassed herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn — 
1 never tasted anything so delicious— and the turkey was a picture. 
We had our onn green iM>as and asparagus and young |>otatoes, and our 
iwn cream whipjied in the meringues, ami coffee jelly. 

i,)uito an epicurean feast. The lady who revel leil in roast \t\g 
was the wife of a sea captain who had turned farmer in a small 
way ; yet farmers, in spite of such dinners, com)ilain of bad 
times. In Australia, however, they may bo more fortiniatoly 
situated, thonr;li there, as here, wo are incidentiilly told they 
have to contend npiinst the voracious slug. The book contains 
much other useful and curious iuforniation : — 

" Remember,'' 1 said, " never to bo without a four ounce bottle of 
i|>eeacunnha wine, heriiieticnlly se.iled when fresh, and kept where you 
can readily lay your hand upon it. ,\nd when you tlnd your child 
Ireathing in tliat loud, hoarso way, or beginning that barking cough, 
_ive <» teaspunoful at cnce — at once— ami another every live minutes until 

The story « ill doubtless \w rend with interest by mothers 
and dauirhturs. It describes the experiences of an estimable 
lady as daujjhter, wife, mother, and fjrandniother. Wo need 
.scarcely say that she had reaclleil the final stage when she gave 
that admirable advice about the ijiecacuanha wine. 

It is difficult to imagine that A Tale of Two Rincis (Raphael 
Tuck, Is.) is not earlier in date than the two other books for 
which its author is responsible. The writiui;, though not without 
a cortjiin smartness, is often isior, but seldom so ]n>or, it must in 
fairness bo added, as the oiieniug sentence : " The leaves had 
put on their look of autumn jaundice." Nor is the |s>verty <if 
style rodeomed by any excellence of plot, which is crude and 
commonplace. Mr. tlordou himself seems to be aware of the fact, 
for he describes the tactics of his villain as " Machiavolianism 
of the most rudimentiiry kind." As everything de|iends u|K)n 
this contemptible {lerson, whose motives are 8<imewhat obscure 
until ho clears the stage by running oil' with his friend's un- 
desirable wife, it is evident that the descrii>tion nuist be a)>plie<l 
to the plot as a whole. In general appearance the st^iry, which 
belongs t<i the " Breezy Library " series, is a great impmvemeut 
ui>ou the ordinary " shilling shocker." It is really well 
illustrated ; but the cover, at any rate, is printed in Saxony. 
Could not this he as well done in Kngland ':• 

In " i: 

 V or A No 

 1 in " H. 


ingenuity has failed to nutke a voluu<e of it- and anuthnr story, 
ijuito as lliuisy, has been bound up with it, though no iiitinuition 
of the fact is given on the titl»-|)uge. In the first, two mon 
engagml in a duel slice otT one another's nusoa, which are aft«r- 
wards, by inistikke, attached to the wrong (hmm. Pro|«rly 
trcatod, the situation might conceivably len<1 itself to farce, but 
ncjbody, oven in farce, talks its do the ehaniot«r« in " Hi* 
Tragedy of a Nose." 

There is no groat originality in TnK St. Caiii:^ < \^i-,"\ r.-iri.r 
Miller (Innes, Us.), but it is frank, honest story-tolling, though of 
somewhat uneven merit. There is little dove-tiiilii i 

the incidents are too slight. But there is plonty • 
in it, forcible, dramatic, and np|H>site, aiii' 
frozen misery of her face," which ring .i 

Ax AsfiF.i, OF Pity, by Florence Marryat (Hutchinson, Cm.), 
is a tirade against the principles and practice of vivisection. Miss 
MarryBt,itwouldapix.'ar from the author's note, lias bec<ir- ' - '■■ 
impressed with sundry tracts of the Society for the Pt'  
Animals from Vivi.section, but of exiierimetital 1 
]>ossesses but little, if one may judge from h<T piet 
life and of the simplest fm-ts of me<li 
has also managed tf> pack within h. : 

of which wo had thought the modem novel :id we an? 

not sure she has not invcnUMi one or two. ' restraint 

and accurate thought there is little more than a trwe from cover 
to cover. The "angel " herself, sometime hospital nurse and later 
wife of liosquard, the vivisectionist. whom she woos from his 
dialiolical practice for no adequate reasons that we can di.scover, 
is no angel at all, but an impulsive and rather silly woman who 
talks slang, refuses to marry the man she loves, for the astound- 
ing reason that she loves him, marries another for his i>o«itifn, 
whom she afterwards does her best to muriler. and ■' 
conflicting things t<io bewildering to mention. It is oi 
.idd that on the few occisions when the author gets away from 
her mission sin. writes freely, naturally, and with ton, Iks nf r .re 

.Macmillan's •■ Sixpenny .Series," which starts with Mr. 
" Rolf Boldrewood's " UonBKKV ixdbb Arms, is, judging from 
the list announced, to put into the hands of readers who would 
rather give M. than Ge. for a book a selection from the ni --'■- 
of " contemiiorary classics " — i.e., of writers, living or ret-i 
dead, whose position the public has agreed to r- 
second volume of the series is Mr. Mason's  
Morrice Buckler," and novels of Mr. Marion ' Mr.s. 

Oliphant, and Miss Yonge are to come in due moi -,e. 

Htncvican Xcttcv. 


There is, of course, almost a world's difference between 
England and the Continent anywhere ; but I do not re<'all 
now any transition iK-twi-on Continentnl eoitntries which in\ .. 
a more distinct change in tli ings than 

the pa.ssage from the Middle Si - It is all 

American, but American of diverse ideals ; and you are hardly 
over the border before you are sensible of diverse effects, which 
are the more apparent to you the more American you are. If yon 
want the contrast at its sharpest you had l>etter leave Nev York 
on a Sound Jlwat ; for then you sleep out of the Mi<l<lle State 
civilization and wake into the civilization of New Kngland. wliii ii 
seems to give its stamp to nature herself. As to nuin, he t.ikes it 
whether native or alien : and if he is foreign-born it marks him 
another Iri.shman, Italian, Canadian, .Jew, or negro from his 
brother in any other part of the Unite<l States. 



[July .30, 1898. 


When you have n theory of any kinti, proofs of it are a{.t to 
•••k you out, aiitl I, who am rathor foml of my faith in Now 
BBglMMl'i) infliioniv of thin ourt, had an protty nil iiiNtniu-o of it 
Um day after my arrirni an I could wish. A i-olourril liriHhor of 
Maiaaehnwtta Mrth. si Mack a« a man can well Ih>, and of a 
meraly ' . was dnvinf;nio ainngiihorp in xoarch 

of • ant rto cnmo upon n wcnk-iiiindcMl yonufj 

chicken in th« road. The natural ox]MH-tation in thnt any <'liickon 
in these eircuinstanci>s will wait for your vt>liiclii and thi^n fly up 
hefm« it with a loud acro«ch ; but thin chickun may havo hpen 
oTervomo by tho h<>at (it was a lanil brt-exo and it drow liko the 
breath of a fnrnac«> over tlie hay-cm-ks and the clovi-r), or it niiiy 
have mixtimol the who«'l, which panm-d over its head and left it 
to Hop a moment in the dust and then full still. The poor little 
tr\ge«ly wa« sufticiently distn-ssful to nie. but I Inire it well coni- 
p«re<l with my driver. He could hardly stop lamenting it ; and 
when presently wo met a young farmer, he pullinl up. " You 
poin' jieat .lim Martlen's ?" " Yes." " Well, 1 wish you'd toll 
him I jnit run over a chicken of his, ami I kille<1 it, I guess. I 
gueea it was a pretty big one." " Oh no," I put in, " it was 
only a broiler. 'What do you think it was worth ? '' I took out 
some money, and the furmer noted the largest coin in my Imiiil ; 
" About half a dollar, I guess." On this I put it all back in my 
pocket, and then ho said, " Well, if a chicken don't know enough 
to get out of the road, I guess ;/on ain't to blnme." I expresso<l 
that this was my own view of the case, and we drove on. When 
we parted I gave the half-dollar to my driver, ar.d l)egge<l him 
not to let the owner i^f the chicken come on me for damages ; 
and though he cliuckled his pleasure in the joke, I could see that 
ho was still unhappy, and I have no doubt that ho has that 
pullet on his conscience yet, unless he has paid for it. He was 
of a race which elsewhere has so immemorially ])lundere<l lion- 
rooets that chickens are as free to it us the air it breathes, 
witliout any conceivable taint of private ownership, lint the 
spirit of Xew Kiigland had so deeply entero<l into him that the 
irob<«ile broiler of another, slain by pure accident and by its 
own cvmtributory negligence, was saddening him, while I was off 
in my train without a i>»iii; for the owner and with only an 
agreeable pathos for the pullet. 


The instance is ]x>rhaps extreme ; and, at any rate, it has 
carrie<l me in a psychological direction away from the sim|)ler 
diffen-ncea which I meant t'l note in New Kngland. Iliey were 
evident as s<M)n as our train l)egan to run from the steamb<iat 
landing into the oiuntry. and they have intensified if they have 
not multipliwl thcmstdves as 1 liavo penetrate<l deeper and 
deeper into the >Mrautiful region. The land is poorer than the 
lan<l Vi the southwartl - one sees that at once ; the soil is thin, 
ami often so thickly bunlene<l with granite boiililers that it could 
never have b<irne any other crop since the first Puritans, or 
Pilgrims, cut away the primeval woo4ls and betravt><l its 1io|><0i'Bs 
sterility t«» the light. Hut wherever you come to a fariiihonse, 
whether standing alone or in <ine of the village groups that New 
Kngland farmhouses have always like<l to gather themselves 
into, it is of a neatness that brings ('ospair, and of a rc|>air tliat 
iinght to liring shanu. to the (M-holdur from more easy-going con- 
ditions. Kverything is ke|it up with a strenuous virtue that 
im|nrts an air of self-resjiect to the lnndsca|ie, which the bhtach- 
int.' ' tie whIIh, v,'Hnderliig over the hill-slop)>s, 

dii "f white liirch and pine, stony pastures, 

aU'i -• of l>otnt<K.s and corn. The iiiowing-lunds 

ahti id if th<- Ni-w Kngland year is in the glory of 

tbo lat«*<it .iuiie, t! " clover blows honey-sweet into 

the oar windows, • ^ uv of thi! new cut hay rises hot 

fr>mi thv hoary swatlis that suem to smoke in the sun.. 

Wo have struck a hot sfiell, one of those torrid moocis of 
oontinontal westhtrr which we have telegrspho<l aheail to heighten 
oorsnff. " (..../, ' villagehousos 

an Sftfe t the lliiiHiia- 

tion of tlu! ariuut that (;rous .'.u UU alioiit Uicm that the June 

rosea have to strain upward to get themselves free of it. Tiehind 
each dwelling is a billowy mass of orchard, and lR>foro it the 
Gothic archway of the elms stretches alHivo the quiet street. 
There Is no tn-o in the worhl so full of sentiment as the Air.ori- 
can elm, ami it is nowhere so graceful as in New Kngland 
villigos, which are themselves, I think, the ami whole- 
somest of mortal sojourns. Hy a happy instinct, their wooden 
hoiiFOs are all |iaiiit<>il white, to a marble ed'ect that suits our 
meridional sky. and the contrast of their dark green shutters is 
ileliciously rofrcshing. There was an evil hour, the terrible 
moment of the lesthotic revival, now happily jast, when white 
walls and green blinds were thought in bad taste, and the village 
houses wore often tinged a dreary groiinil colour, or a doleful 
olive, or a gloomy red. but now they have rotiiriie<l to their 
earlier love. Not the first love ; that was a pale biiH" with white 
trim ; but I doubt if it wore good for all kimls of village 
houses : the eye rather demands the white. The pale bull' does 
very well for largo colonial mansions, like Lowell's or Long- 
fellow's in Cambridge ; but when you come, sa.v, to soo the 
groat square houses built in Portsmouth. New Hampshiro, o4irly 
in this century, ami |iaintod white, you find that wliit«), after all, 
is tlio thing for our climate, oven in the towns. 

In such a village as my coloured brother drove mo through 
on the way to the lieach it was of an iibsoluto fitness ; and I wi.sli 
I could convey a due foiise of the exquisite keeping of the place. 
Kach whit<' house was iiioio or loss cIohoIv l>elti>d in with a wliitti 
fenco, of 1 anels or pickets ; the grassy glowed with 
flowers, and ofU-n a climbing rose embowered the <loorway with 
its bloom. Away backward or sidewise stretched tlio woodsheil 
from the dwelling to the barn, and shut the whole inidcr one 
cover ; the turf grew to the wheel-tracks of the roadway, over 
which the elms rose and dro|>|ie<l ; and from one end of the 
village to the other you could not, as our saying is, find a stone 
to throw at a dog. 1 know Holland ; I liavo seen the wives of 
Siheveningcn scrubbing iqi for Sunday to the very niiildle of their 
brick'stn-ets, but 1 doubt if l)iitch cleanliness goes so far without, 
or cornea from 8i> deep a scruple within, as the cleanliness of New 
Kngland. I felt so keenly the feminine quality of its motive as 
I<l through that village, that I think if I hiul droiijied »o much 
as a )iicco of pagier in the street I must have kno<-ke<l at the first 
door and liegged the lady of the house (who would have openinl 
it in jK-Tson after wiping her hands from her work, taking off her 
apron, and giving a glance at her.self in tho mirror and at mo 
through the window-blind) to rejiort me to the .scli ct men in the 
int<!rcst of good morals. 


I dill not know at once (piito how to reconcile the present 
foulness of the New Kngland capital with the fairness of tho Now 
Kngland country : and I am still soniowhat embarrassOil to own 
that after New York (even under the relaxing rule of Tammany) 
ItoKtoii seemed very dirty when we'arrived there. At best I was 
never more than a natural i/.e<l Kostoiiian ; but it used to give 
megicat pleasiiro — so [lonotratingly does tho place ijualify even tho 
sojourning Westerner — to think of the defect of New York in the 
virtue that is next to gislliness ; and now I ha<l to hang my 
head for shame at the mortifying contrast of the Itoston streets 
to tho Well-swept asphalte which I had left frying in the sun in 
New York the afterniMin Ixifore. Later, however, when 1 began 
to meet the sort of lioston faces 1 rememlxjred so well — good, 
just, pure, but set and severe, with their I<Mik of challenge, of 
interrogation, almost of reproof — they not only ignored the dis- 
graceful untidiness of the stro'ts, but they convino'd me of a state 
of transition which would Icavi' the place swept and garnishiMl 
behind it : atid o mfort<'d me against the litter of the winding 
thoroughfares an<l narrow lanes, where the dust ha<l blown up 
against the brick walls, and soomod permanently to have 
smutchiKl and discoloured thorn. 

In New York j'oo a4>o the American face as Europe* chamc- 
UitiKVH it ; in lioston you *4te it as it Kuro|Mi ; and 
it is in lioston that you can l>est imagine the strenuous grapple 
of tho native forces which all alien things must yield to till they 

July 30, 1898.] 



tiiko thii AliK^ricnn ciiHt. Tt im nInioHt diiininytiig, that i>liypii<>p- 
iiomy, boforo it fiiiniliari/.i'M itHclf aiiow ; mid in that \>r\f( lirHt 
niomitnt whilu it in yot ubjuctivii, yoii raiiKank your coimcioiicn 
f(ir liny niiis yon may havr committi'd in your abHi>n<!i« from it 
mill niukf rraily to do jionancn for tbi'm. I fi'lt almost a« if I 
had broujjht tho dirty ntroutH with mo, and woru guilty of having 
litft thum lyiiiK alx>ut, so impoai«ible wore they with roforoncu to 
thix lioNtoii face. 

It iH a facu that oxpriHAnK caru, even totho |H>int of anxiuty, 
and it looked into thu winih.w of our carriaj^o with tho aorioUR 
(lyuH of our oldtirly )iaokm:iii to maku (MTftHrtly Ruro of our 
doHtiiiatinn l«<fon> we drovo away from tho Rtation. It was a 
little rif^ornuN with iih, as r«<|uiriii'; iih to liavo a clear mind ; 
but it was not unfriendly, not unkind, mid it was patient frcm 
loiij; exDeriunce. In New York there are no ehlerly hackmeii ; 
but in Himton they abound, and I cannot beliure they would )h' 
caimblo of bad faith with travellerR. In fact, I doubt if this 
chiHS is anywhoru as ]iro<latory as it is paiiit<.«l ; but in Boston it 
apjM^ars to havo the public honour in its kt>opin){. I do not mean 
that it was loss mature, loss sclf-rospoctful in Portsmouth, where 
wo wore next to arrive ; more so it could not be ; an oqual sense 
of safety, of ease, l>e>pin with it in both places, and all through 
New Knuland it is of native birth, while in Now York it is com- 
lH)He<l of nioii of many nations, with a weifjht in numliers towards 
tho Celtic strain. The prevalence of the native in Now Kngland 
heliMi you sensibly to realize from the first moment that here you 
an? in America as the first Americans ima);ineil and meant it ; 
and nowhere in New Enf;land is the <irif;inal tradition more 
purely kept than in tho beautiful old seaport of New Hampshire. 
In fact, without lioiuR quite prc|>jirod to dufend a thesis to this 
olfoct, I believe that Portsmouth is pre-omiiicntly American, and 
in tliis it differs from Newbuiyi«>rt and from Salem, which have 
sutlorod from different causes an equal commercial decline, and, 
thoiifjh amonc; the earliest of the groat Puritan towns after 
H,)Nton, are now larftoly made up of aliens in race and religion ; 
thoHO are actually the majority, I boliovo, in Newburyport. 


The adversity of Portsmouth liepin early in the century, but 
liefore that time she had ])rosporod so gi-eatly that her mercliant 
princes wore able to build themselves wooden (lalaces with white 
walls and gieon shutters, of a jiraiiilour and lioaiity unmatched 
elsewhere in tlie country. I do not know what architect had his 
way with them, thou^jh his name is richly worth remembrance, 
but they let him make thorn habitations of such gi-aceful projxir- 
tion and of such delicate ornament that they havo become s}irines 
of pious iiilgrimaj^e with the youns architects of our day who 
hope to house our well-to-do iieople fitly in country or suburlis. 
The decoration is oftenost spent on a porch or portal, or a frieze 
of iH<culiar refinement ; or perhaps it fetds its way to tho carven 
casements or to tlio dolicatti iron-work of the transoms ; tho 
n^st is a simplicity and a faultless pnipriety of form in tho stately 
mansions which stand under the arching elms, with their gardens 
sloping, or dropping by easy terraces behind them to the river, 
or to the ls>rders of other pleasances. They are all of wtxsl, 
except for tho gianite foundations and doorsteiw, but the stout 
ixlilices rarely sway out of the true line given them, and tlu-y 
loi.>k as if they might keep it yet another century. 

IJi'twoen them, in the sun-shotttm shade, lie the quiet streets, 
whose gravelled stretch is proliably never cleaned Ixjcause it 
never needs oleaning. Even the business streets and tho tpiaint 
square which gives tlio most American of towns an air so foreign 
and Old Worldly, look as if tho wind and rain alone cared for 
them ; but they are not foul, and the narrower avenues, where 
the smaller houses of grey, unpainted wo««l cro*<l each other. 
Hush iiiH>n the pavements, towards the water-side, are doubtless 
un visited by the hoo or broom, and must lie kept clean by a New 
Kngland conscience against getting them untidy. 

\Vlien you get to the river-side there is one stretch of 
narrow, high-shouldered warehouses which rt>call Holland, espe- 
cially in a few with their gables broken in steps after the Dutch 
fashion. These, with their mouldering piers and grass-grown 

wharves, have their i 
ari'liitectiiru an int< : 
tlie home-nick exiles hi, 
jH'riisl of jNist-coloiiial 

.1x1 the wli "in tU 

<ird of lie whi-n 

1' to tilu HuUl '» > '■ 

< . when proud mi i .1 

ipiilent captains set their viut iiqiuire houses each in ita tianiUoOM 
s|ia(re of gardeiietl ground. 

My adjei-tives might niisliutd as to size, but they could not 
RB to t>eaiity, and I seek in vain for thoHi that cnn iluly impart 
tho peculiar charm of the town. Fortamoiith utill awaitii Ix^r 
noveliat ; lie will find a rich field when ho come* : and I ho|i«< h« 
will come of the right sex, for it ne^'ds mmtj miniiti' and nubtlu 
feminine skill, like that of .lane Austen, t/> express a fit M<nMi 
of its life in the past. Of its life in the present I knew nothing. 
I could only go by those delightful silent houses, and si^li my 
longing soul into their dim interiors. When n<iw and then a 
young shape in summer silk, or a group of young sha{K>« in 
diaphanous muslin, fluttered out of them, I was no wiser ; and 
doubtless my elderly fancy would have been unable to deal with 
what went on in them. Some girl of those flitting through the 
warm, (xlorous twilight must become tho creative historian of 
the place ; I can at least imagine a Jane Austen now growing up 
in Portsmouth. 


If Miss .Tewett were of a little longer breatli than she has 
yet shown herself in fiction, I might sjiy the Jane Austen of 
Portsmouth was already with ua, and had merely not yet liegun 
to deal with its precious material. One day when we crtHUod 
the Piscataqua from New Hampshire into Maine, and took the 
new trolley line for a run along tlirough tho lovely coast country, 
we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of her own pe<iple, 
who are a little different Sort of New Englanders from thoee 
of Miss Wilkins. They began to flock into tho car. young 
maidens antl old, mothers and grandmothers, and nic>< Isivi and 
girls, with a very, very few farmer youth of marriageable age, and 
more rustic and seafaring elders long jiast it, all in the .Sunday 
liest which they had worn to the graduation exercis** at tho 
High School, where we to<ik them mostly U]i. The womenkind 
were in a nervous twitter of talk and laughter, and the men 
t<derantly gay beyond their wont, '' passing the time of day " 
with one another, and hel)iing tho more tumultuous sex to get 
settled in the overcrowded open car. They courteously maile 
room for one another, and let the children stand be' ir 

knees, or to<ik them in their laps, with that unfailin. .:i 

kindness which I am prouder of than tho Amoricuu vabmr 
in battle, observing in all that American dcctinim 
which is no bad thing cither. We ha<l chanco<I uisin the high 
and mighty occasion of tho ncighbourluxKl year, when |M-ople 
might well have been a little off their balance, but there was not 
a boisterous note in the 8nb<Iue<l affair. As wo {>asse<l tho school- 
house door, three dear, pretty maids in white gowns and white 
slip|iers stood on the stops and gently smileil u{siii our ciimiuny. 
One could see that they were inwardly glowing and thrilling with 
tho excitement of their graduation, but wore controlling their 
emotions to a calm worthy of the august event, so that no one 
might ever have it to say that they had ap^waretl silly. 

Tho car swept on, and stopjie<l to set down (Hissengers at 
their doors or gates, where they severally left it, with an easy 
air, as of private ownership, into some sense of which the trolley 
promptly flatters people along its obligine linos. One comfortable 
matron, in a cinnamon silk, was just such a figure as that in the 
Miss Wilkins' story where tho bridegroom fails to come on the 
wedding-day ; but, as I say, they made me think more of Misa 
.lewett's people. The shore folk and the Dowii-Easters are speci- 
fically hers ; and these were just such as might have behmgeii 
in " The Country of the Pointed Firs," or " Sister Wisby's 
Courtship," or " Dulham Ladies,'" or " An Autumn Ramble." 
or twenty other entrancing tales. Sometimes one of them would 
try her front door, and then, with a bridling toss of the head, 
express that she had forgotten locking it, and slip round to the 
kitchen ; but most of tho ladies made their way back at once 
lietween the roses and syringas of their graasy dooryarda, which 



[Jul)' 30, 1S98. 

Ttm M ntmt unii prim m thvir own persons, or the b«at chamber 
in their whil«-wit||i<d or grtHin-shutturud »t<>ruy-itnil-a-lulf house, 
•ud M pcrfcoUf kepi m the Tory kitchen it«<.-lf . 


Th» fr«»ll»>y lino hnA beon opoiuni only since lost Scptvinber, 
)m.' it u\i» a:i if it hitd ulwu.vs Ui-n 

tl.' -I aiiil clauiU'rtxl uboiit with the 

e«ay irwaluiii oi tliu roiiiitry roix) which it fotlowutl. It in a laud 
of low hillx. hrokun hy fntiuunt reaaltea of thu mm, and it in moat 
•musing, most untitling, to iu.<e how frankly tlie trolluy car taktts 
aiMl overcomos its dilliciiltids. It 8>-rainbl«s op nnd down the 
little sttM-ps like a cat, and whiaksi round a sharp and sudden 
ctirve with a fulinv screech, brottduning into a loud cattirwaiil a.n 
it dart* over the «<stnaricH on iti trexlli-s. Its coiirne dm-s not 
la' iiKut. and I KiipiMiNii it dooN not lack danger ; but us 

y< I lU- Uiin no nciidi-nt.s, and it is not ho distiguring us 

oiHJ would tiiink. The luntlKC:t|H> lian ulri<<uly ucceptutl it, and is 
uiakiitg the best of it : and to the country (leoplo it is 
att inestiiitabh* convenience. It passes uverybody's front door or 
back tioor, aiai tlie fariuurs can get themselves or their proiluce 
(for it runs an express car) into Fort.sinouth in an hour, twice 
an hour, all ditr long. In summer thu cars are open, with tntns- 
rerse seats, and st«iut curtains that quite shut out a squall of 
wind or ruin. In winter the cars ar<' closest , and hcat^tl bv 
electricity. The young inot<ir-mun whom I spoke with while we 
waited on a siding to let a car from tht.- opposite direction get 
by told lite titat he was caught out in a bli/.Kard last winter, and 
pMwd the night in a snow-drift. " Hut the cah was so wa'iu, I 
neva suff'ed a mite." 

" Well," I summariztMl, " it must be a great advantage to 
all the p<^iple along the line." 

*' Wirll, yen wouldn't 'a' thought so, from the kick they 

" I snppoae the cottagers "—the summer colony-" didn't 
like the noise." 

" Oh yes ; tliat's what I mean. TIte's whe' the kick was. 
Thu uativus liko it. / gue.Hs tliu sunima folks 'II liki- it, t4K>." 

He looked mund at lue with eujoyiilent of his Joke in his eye, 
for w« botJi uixlersttKMl that the summer folks could not help 
themselves, ami roust Ih>w to the will of the majority. As yet, 
however, they aru not Isiwing. but kicking still : building has 
stupiM'il : and an unusual numlH'r of cottaxes Ktiiud i-nipty. This 
may be lArtly on account of tin- S|iaiiish flint wliicli our Hea-si<le 
nojooruers have irverywhere eX|iect4Ml to come and bouibuid them ; 
but it is also on account of the trolley, which I own 1 would 
rather not Itsve |M8s my gable. \V. D. HUWELLS. 

jForctcjn Xcttcrs. 

- —  — 

IM .MAM.\. 

" 'I V of our country has lieen a tragedy in which 

th« plaj ii«ver felt the presence of a sym)>alhetic, nay, 

even an imlillerent, andiunce. We are surronmled by puopla* 
that liate us, by ra<vs that never have lo\ei| us. Distant lands 
know lu not. We luive always Iteen classe*! as Wallachians, who 
w«r* a stranger folk ni Asiatic origin. All that has l>een said of 
na has been receivetl a* a legend of .Midas, and whatever has 
b«en seen of us was tin ' '- eyes of luifrieiully neighbours." 

Tbuti wrote l^aiiriau, ' . tn, but a iieni-ratioii ago. Kising 

ft'" lie, the >te liUH sutvived the frailties of 

Mti ' .Ksl. aiwl, . .(ion with a growing perceiition 

ut natioiwl life, a yeaiuiiig hits taken r'.ot in Itomaiiiu to reach 
a higher standard of rulture, coupled with the ambition to 
poaaesa a genuine native lit«rAtur». This ini|>idse has fonml es- 
praaaion iu an erer-iix r,..,>i>.i' friMluction of iiHligunous work. 

Tlia literatiira of ;i > usually tite mirror of ita history, 

whatbar in a •riuie ano )•■ miiiivv form, or in the more polishe<l, 
and aomatiuxsi artittcial, dewlopment of riper civili-Mtion, 
tjpiiad, in tlii* inatanoe, by the partial preservation of the Latin 

tongue in the folk-lore of tlie Kuntan |ieasantii. With a clinging 
pertinacity they retained and (ier]ietuuU.'d their language and 
cuctoms throughout the ilark uges in the mountain recesses of 
the Transylvaiiian border, thui, forming a living link oetwccn thu 
Roman Empire and moilern times, and making possible the 
resurrection of their race to national life, after centuries of slavery 
and etfacement. Karly Slovene cease<l to be thu lunguage of the 
Church at the hegiuning of the sevuuteuntli cuntuiy, and thu 
" Cyrilliun ' alphaliet is only founil in ancient chronicles and 
annals : but the Latin s|HH!ch, spreotling froni its refuge in the 
f3ar|)athians, coutinuMl to make progress in Moldavia and 
Wallachia, notwithstanding the encroachnients of the Ureek 
idiom, importol from .Stambikl by the " Funariotes," and iui- 
[KMted on the rc^calcitntnt " lloiars " with uU the re.sources of 
Hellenic craft und Moslem tyranny. 

When tlie fame of Napoleon curried the splendour anil glory 
of Friince into the ilarkest corners of Kuro|)e, it arou.'ied the 
dormant pride of this people in their Latin biilluight, and 
awakeiieil a l>elief in their national regeneration. Thencbforward 
all things Ciallic were haileil with enthusihsm, p<jets und writers 
looking to France both for style und inspiration. The imitation 
of French talent and culture, visible everywhere to the present 
hour, caused a reaction in the creation of an entirely native and 
patriotic school founded largely u|xjn the fragmentary relics of 
the past, the traditions of the people, and their tevival as a 
tuition. The ultimate goal of this ultru-putrii^tic phalanx is to 
completely eliminate all foreign influence, to consolidate and to 
glorify a new-born " Romanism " with almost narrow usdusive- 
ness in a language of which the vocabulary is largely diluted 
with Slavonic, Cireek, and Turkish expressions. One of the lirst 
pioneers after Kliude, of the nnHleru renascent liiniiauian litera- 
ture, wad Urigorie Alexundrescii, born ut Tirgovischte. His 
poems, often reflecting a study of Lamurtine and Ityron, display, 
at times, a certain absence of liuisli ; lint, in company with 
Andruiu Mureseunn, a Transylvanian Human and composer of 
the stirring song, " Arouse thee Hnmania, ' Alexundrescu is 
creilited with giving life to the |io|iular movement. His elegies 
und isles, es|H-cially " Midnight," are still miii-li esteemed, but 
this rather sombre versifier will b« long and best reiiiemliered liy 
his inimitidde fables aisl satires, such as " The l)i>g and the 
Aas," " The Ox and Calf," und " The Mule.' Dimitrie 
Cosmail, known as liolintineauu, after hia birtli)>htce, liolintin, 
is claimed, with Alecsandri and Kiiiiiiescu, as one of Rumania's 
three most gifted poets. The " Flowers of the liospliorns " is 
his rocognineil miist«!rpiece ; but " The Hiitterfly " shows artistii' 
delitnu-y of treatment, and iu the Macedonian pnems there is u 
ipiaint'liallail, " The Song of the Shepherds." More deiide«ily 
than Aleciandri, Imtli ISoliutiiieanu and Mace<lonski of Kruiova 
exhibit in their works, in a marked degree, the iiifliieiiru of the 
French romantics, {Hirticulurly Lumartine, L>e Musset.and Victor 
Hugo. Kven the brilliant Vasilie Alecsandri wrote a few early 
verses in French, but lesser lights, Roinun un<l N'ucurescu, for 
example, constantly used that language, while lady writers in 
general, even the youthful [loetess >lulia Hasdeii, neglected 
entirely the language of their home. 

Of all the men of lntt4-rs Titii MaioreSi'U has IumI the largest 
share in moidding uml guiding the literature of the duy. For 
many years I'rofeasor ut ,Jussi, this eminent author, critic, play- 
wright, uihI |K>et, the " Rumanian Lessing," has given the true 
direction to the present iiiovement. The most recent develop- 
ment has lieeu that of writers on Socialism, of whom there are 
grou|is at Kukharesl, Jassi, and Kronsludt in Transylvania, whose 
aims, iMting much the same an those of a similar tendency in 
other lauds, are therefore ut variance with the objects of the 
National Party. Their theories of social reform, though 
vigorously adviM.'ute<l, have gained, ut any rult; as yet, but few 
udharenta except in the class of small otiiciuls an<l nm^luitm. One 
of the first to attract uttention was ,1. Uliereu, u well-known 
critic, who has written caustic attacks on the present condition 
of Runutnia, supportetl by \'olenti and others, notably in the 
RcritUi So-iiilii, which l«<l to a vehement polemic in CoHtttn- 
portanul at Jatai. 

.Inly ••!(), IRf)R.] 



A tiiil.v./'ii-i(' -»ii'/' ii|i|>uiiritM<'w u tliii iir tli<.' |M"i!iiiiii«is, tiii- 

liiippy Npiritii who cuii {mronivu ui> good, iiiu, >>r joy in life. 

Viiioiit; tlii'Ki: Miliiiil Kiiiiiii'vi'ii iniiiit litttnrly lii<, t<> «i>iiiu uxtuiit, 

fi'liidiMl, wliDin Miiiori<!<(Mi r<^i;ar<t)i iim u pnut of itliiio'it fli(> auiiio 

iiik im AInc-Hiuiilri. UimIcIihI tu tlui roiimiitic t< i f the 

Niiiv ill hi* uarlier utt'oiu, the (;ift<Hl burd loon il' , ; jiuli- 

M«liiiil ipiuiitiu* of u liigli oi'il«r,whiuli liuvu uiititleil him to nhuru 

lilt! crown of iiiurblii with tiie " Son of N'unioo " in th» cloning 

>'itr» of till* prutunt uuntiiry, Liitt<<rly n tonti of ile»]Min<lunuy, » 

!>i'niu' of lifii-wxurinoRS, it nioninfnl wuhiPHH till tho nmlmly of 

liiii vui'Hi' with It 8in){iihti- pittlioH. Vut, iiltlion(;h thti ]H>nt'a litt<-r 

proiliit'tioiig iiru tinK<i<l with thu inriviming |H!8Hiiiiii(ni of thi< ilny, 

v«ry MiiirkiHl, for instiincit, in tliti " Knip<<ror itnd ll«>^)(ur," in 

' liich pit'ci' liP NtrikcH u uhoi-<| of frutfiil Ui.icontfnt, I'Jiiiincsun 

iiinot JMi wholly ru^itnlud hh onu of thu hopuluHii liitnti, fm ho is 

ilinit<ily ^'I'tiittiM' in uvQiy r(iN|ieot. It would Iw dillicnlt to tind 

itt'onKni' I'onti'iiHt than vxiata Uitwotm thu (Mnvitdint; nmlancholy 

I int.-h Mon){H Its KvuninK, " Tlixru ia Hilunoti in the woodhtndx, 

; ho weuiy hiiil« \\n\»< f»on«i to rustt," tii- " 'lime creep* on like the 

< it'uun's tide," and th« hri^htnenB, thu love of bnddiii); life, that 

illumine us with Hnnbt-aniH the tiim-ful lyr» uf Ali'isandri, so 

Mill displayed in " The Pa.Mtultiri," •' The Ode to Spring," and 

l.u dreamy elmrm of '• On thu Hunks of thu Siret." Among thu 

treme iM'M.HimisfH of inditt'ereiit merit, NUeh a.s N. A. Hoydan, 

Pa'un. and .J. Rom«<ii, there is u laily of some ability who tvritea 

iider the name of '• Smara," and i.s tin- anthor of a pretty legend, 

 The Water I-ily " and of u story with thu title of" baba 
lliia." Con.stantin Mille, who is thoroughly btiiaf, has also 
l>iibli.shed a novel, " Dinu Miliau," and it title, " O Genoratie." 
This write-- Heoms to have adopted Zola as his niculol, but with 
"Illy moderate siiocuhs ; his works, however, have enjoyed n wiiio 
circulation. There is also an ever-pre.stmt demand for foreign 
l>ooks of note. 

Lately I hoard many (piaint balladB and folk-songs in the 

Human Sottlomoiit.s tlnotighoiit thu valley of the Morava, in 

Servia, ami hetwoon this river and the Tiniok on the liulgarian 

frontier -communities founded, no doubt, by immigrants from 

l.iulo Wallaohia, who brought their language, traditions, and 

uwrittun baUada with them at a p«rio«l of which the ]jeoplu have 

at all recollection. Some of theiie songs and ballads are very 

Mlliilur to those with which I whs acquainted in Albania and 

which seem to be derived from the same source. A curious 

Wallachian song, found also with the Kunmns in Survia, begins 

thus, •• IViin/.a vordu tistiiroiu ! liute'l, Doumno, de clocoiii." 

' (ireen leaves and garlic I Thrash, O lord, the upstart 

inner," — a peasant folk-song, appealing to the lord, the 

" boyat," to punish the raiincious farmers: "do coifi " 

is a term of contempt, a jxinfim, or " liicipiey farmer." 

Also the Pa.sha of Ixvor " is eipially known in Old Servia." 

I'lio songs of the Haiduks frerpiently met with in the district of 

Nisch are of interest, among them " The Prisoner," cursing the 

stone walls that enclose him. There is a local sonnet on the 

lluods. lit C'upriu, that so fre(|uently desolate this '.•onion, and 

uothcr on the plague, " I) mother pest." both conhned to the 

illuy of the .Morava. These, and all the dances, are accom- 

auied by a clash of cymbals when each couplet is repeated. An 

id historic ballad is that of " Stojan," the Kolukbashi, the 

 Terrible Pasha of Widin." who, defying the Sultan and his 
. missuries, held that town against all comers for seven years. 
\\ arnetl of im|jeiuling danger by his wife, /amlira, he persisted 
ill accepting an invitation from the Pasha of Kustchuk who, 
under instructions from Stambul, caused Stojan to be 
treacherously done to death. 

A wonderful old legend, known by the N'lachs and Ruiuans 
as " The I'ridge of Arta," in Kpirus, is also claimed by the 
Albanians, but their version is different. The theme of thu 
Kuniaii story represents three brothers, famous builders, to have 
been ordered by the Kuijieror tt> construct a bridge at Arta that 
I "iild never be destroyed, under terrible threats to the people iu 
the event of its failure. In desiiair, after several futile attempts, 
the eldest brother, the master builder, listens to the song of s 
bird, which tolls him that the task can only be accomplished bv 

II ^nilllhe,  ' ' illj; the i> -i 

brother. ^ and di i > . 

narrative cxiu hid> n uUti tie 
in the foiindutiotiM of th'- •Inn' 
ill' •' He is 

lil. •< him to b. r 

they close in ovur her head with a deep and hidluw ■uumi, and 
her wailing voice grows faint and dies away with an impiecatluii 
on the bridge and all who might oruaa it. In tliv Albaniau 
Version the go<hleiu< of fate directs the thrini brothers, Hkaud, All, 
and A mskit, to journey to .""l^-tliiniuh (Athens) tij obtain wive*. On 
their return they build the city of Sk'Mira (Soiitjtri), but th» 
gixIdeSH t<dls them that the wife of one must Iw buriixl alive in 
the outer wall. This is doiii', but a Ninall a|M'rture in left in thu 
stone-W'irk through which thu ill-fate<l mother nursiv her child, 
and (-ver afturwards a stream of aweet pure water issue* from th« 

NiimlH<rs of Albanian songs and legend* have lifl«ur been 
collected, some of these being Wallach others Slavonic. Many ar«, 
indeed, a combination of Kiiman, Servian, and Turkish uxi>re«- 
sions. A Wallachian version of Hliieljeanl, "Tli« iteaiitiful .Mara 
of Bitoli," '• The liaughter of the King of lUnlin, •• A KobUr 
turned into a Horse," " The Cunning Wanderer," and " 'I he 
W'allachs stole the Jackets from the Church " are, with many 
more, full of curious inturest. It may l>e saiil, theieforo, in 
conclusion, that if Rumania can lay claim t<j a iikmIuiii liteia- 
tiii'e, though tinged with French and Hungarian iiilliieiice, there 
remains an almost untrotldeii field for literary exploratton in th« 
unwritten lore of some million* of \'lachs, Rumaiis, and 
Albanians in the Halkan Peninsula. 

U A. M. 




Sir, — The universal admiration excit^nl by CiMpielin'* inagiii- 
liceiit acting and the umjuestioiiable charm of the luxik ■e«iu 
to have blinded critics and playgoers Ui the aerioii* demerit* 
of this piece as far as its chief principle is concerned. A writ«4' 
in the curi-ent nunilier of the NineltenOi CVnfMry gee* au far aa 
to say that the ]iersonality of Cyrano, in all he say* and does, 
com|>els admiration ; that even ShakeN|K'art! has not given us 
a hero who ap|ioals to us as Cyrano : that the pie«' is one 
of the most remarkable plays that have ever b««ii scvn on any 
stitge and in any age, and that it Wars on the face of it thu 
birthmark of immortality. 

Such unprece<lente<l praise apiwars to me to go utt4-rly 
lM\voiid the actual facts of the case. For is Cyrano really »uch 
a splendid character when he deceives a lady whom he loves, 
as to the character of a man with wluini she fancies herself to 
bo in love? This whole part of the story is nothing but 
a long-continiUHl lie, for which I fail to see a reiU-eniing 

What Would have hap)>ened if Christian had U^coine in fact, 
and not merely in name, the hiisliand of Roxaiie'/ The severest 
disitp|¥>iiitinunt and utter sulKteqiient mis<Ty for the heroine 
must have resiilteil from her U'lng mated with a dolt, whom 
she had lieeii falsely led to hM>k upon as a genius. But it 
appears to me still worse that this lie should be carried on 
quite to the end of the citapter, when Cyrano knows that he has 
himself won Roxane's heart, yet stick.i t« his deceit to his dying 
hour. Don Quixote never did anything half as bad, and, to 
my mind. M. Edmond R^tstand's play does not bear any strict 
analysis at all. 

1 am yours faithfully. 


26, Queen Anne-street, 

Cavendish-square, W 



[July 30, 1898. 



Sir,— In your rt-ci-nt %t'ry ablo articlu uiidur tlio hImjvo 
howling, Ayrupos of MvsxrK.Loiignmns' forthooniiiif; iii'W udittoii uf 
the works of Lord i-imnciatu many opinions which 
some of ntir more r«>c«ut wTit4?rs of history would do well to lay to 
he*rt. Usuful thoir works uiay be in a sense to the historical 
•todent or specialist, but not to the avora^jo KngliHhuiun, who 
may nerertbeless Iw cretlittH] with an hi>nt>.st dusiru to btx'ome 
•oqUAinted with his ct>antry's history, and, as far as may Ik', 
with the personal characteristics of those who have contril)Utv<l 
to the making of it. 

The so-called Professor of History is not necessarily an 
historian, ainl when contuniplating the accunndatcd results of his 
laborious and painstaking researches at the Rolls or Roconl 
Office may well ask himself the (|uvstion, " Can these dry bonus 
live?" Can I make them live? As, if not, all my facts and 
figures, useful tli(>u;;li they be in themselves, are but so many 
tools ready to the hand of that man, l)e he who he may, who has 
within him that gift of historic in8i<;ht c<>nple<l with Htyle which, 
without falsifying, can so present and re-create these inaterialN :i8 
first of all to inU-rest and after that iii.struct his fellow-cuinitry- 
raen. With the sole exception of the late .John Hichard Green, it 
would be interesting to know how many of our later writers have 
in any appreciable degree poBscsse<l this gift, the secret which 
(notwithstanding all his detractors may justly urge as to his 
occasional instances of mjipiessio rert) still makes Lord Macaulay 
the most interesting and widely read of all our historians. 
Faithfully yours, 



Sir, — I hope I am not too far away, both in time and in 
■pace, to make a hhort conmient on, and add a tiny suggestion 
to, an interesting assertion which appeared in your issue of 
June I8th ; this namely— 

It eiuinot br n-ix'stetl too oftfii that if a porm be dpHtiiird to 
inunurtality, it will be iininurtal fur )Mir>'ly literary reasiuiR. No verse 
luu bm'n kr|A iiweet bccsiue uf its phil»!iu|>liy, ur morality, ur i«irnn>. 
(p. 710.1 

la it ever in any case possible to analyse the " literary 
reasons " which go to make a poem immortal ? Or, more 
generally, can we state the factors which conduce to the 
permanent |K>pularity of a work of art — architectural, sculptural, 
literary, pigmentary, or musical :-' That is my comment in the 
form of a query. 

There are, no doubt, numerous 8ub-<|ueries beneath the 
cjuery. Thus: Will mere l>eauty live? -if, indeed, mere l>eauty 
is repr««cntable apart from truth. Which is the surer preserva- 
tive, truth to fact, or perfection of form ? To what extent may 
fact and form be detached ? Is the depth of the truth a factor ? 
or its utility ? or its universality ? So, is the severity of the 
fomt a factor? or the simplicity ? or the c<>m|)lexity ? 

A ■onnst Utm ; so does an Aeschylean trilogy. A l>allad 
lives : so does a Wagnerian o|)era. A single and 8iini>le tigiu-e in 
marble lives : so does a cttthe<lial. Can we make a generalization 
— howev(>r wide and however intricate — which will include all 

Two hundre<l aixl thirty years ago there appeared in Paris a 
French translation of five short love letters of a Portuguese nun, 
ths vsry name of whos<! writ«-r man not for a centur}' known, and 
ths originals of which never to this day have Ix-i-n unoartlie<l. 
To-day, nevertheles.^, yon can buy these tran.Hlate<l letters in 
ssrenl languages and in several wlitions, and they will b<- read 
as long M men make love and women return it. Yet they 
ars mere letters, and a translation at that. Why >'" '''"^' live? 
Perfection of form st^-ros to count for little here. 

Again, Milton's " I>ycidas " (as is shown on the h;iiii<' page 
of IMtralurf from which I have quoted) is honi'ycomlied with 
defscts — anachronisms, theological dogmatisms, e«cls«iastical 

controversies fit only for a pamphleteer. And yet " Lycidas " 
lives. Why ? More lieauty seems to count for so much hero. 
What gouorali/.ation will embrace at once the letters of Marianna 
Alcoforndo and the threnody of Milton? 

The dilliculty, I 8up|>o8e, lies in tho fact that art aiijwals to 
so many faculties the senses, the intellect, the imagination, the 
emotions. Can we say to which it must appeal most i)owerfully 
in order to live ? Or is it only that work of art which completely 
satisfies all tho fucidtios to which it apiwals that is entirely 
successful ? .\nd what does complete satisfaction moan? 

This, Sir, is my— I fear very feeble -conimoiit. My sugges- 
tion is that in the ]>ag08 of Litrrahirr you will give your readers 
the treat of seeing the opinions of men severally eminent in the 
five great fine arts, and of learning wln-ther there is ]M>sKil>le a 
gonendization which will explain tlio factors of permanent pop- 
ularity common to thoni all.— Something, surely, links tho Muses 
in a group : what is the bond ? Is it umliscoverable, iiiex])res- 
sible, and does tho secret lie in the fact that, though "the 
leader is fairest," " all are diriiie " ? 

Yours faithfully, 


Toronto, Cana<1a. 


In the next isstie of Literature " Among my Books " will lie 
written by ISIajor Mat-tin A. S. Hume. Tho numlwr will also 
contain a poem by the Hon. Emily Lawless, and tho first l>art of 
a story by Mr. K. Hulme Iranian, which will be concludwl in 
the following numlx-r. 


The second volume of Mr. Murray's edition of Byron's 
" Letters and Journals " will !;» published in October. Tho two 
volumes, taken together, cover the ]toet's life from 17i>S to the 
end of ISV.i. The same period is traversed bj' Mr. Henley in his 
collection, to which Mr. Murray's edition atUls 1u'2 lettxn-s 
(volume I., 80 ; volume II., 72), many of them being of the first 
importance. Besides the ad<lition of 72 letters, otlu^r features 
of the forthcoming volutne are two reviews WTitten by B>Ton on 
contemporary poets, published witliout his name in 1H12 and 
1813 rcsimctively ; tlio restoration of sovi'ral suppressinl pa.sHngeH 
l)oth in tho Letters and in " Detached Thoughts," the latter 
including references to " Monk LewiH," Brougham, Sheri<lau, 
Rogers, and others, and a description of a [Mirty of Lady .lersey's 
at Mi<ldleton House ; the publication of numerous notes by Sir 
Walter Scott, hitherto unpublished, on Byron — his likeness to 
Burns, his affecte<l dislike of literary men ; and a long letter by 
Lady Caroline Lamb, giving her account of her friendship with 


« « « » 

The Trustees of the British Museum are on tho point of 
i>,suing the second volume of the Catalogue of the Greek Papjri 
in thoir ixis.session. It will contain descriptitma of all the papyri 
acquired in the years 18!I1-18U.'), with the complete texts uf nearly 
:tO() documents, a('Com|>anied by introductions and notes. These 
documents are wholly of a non-literary charact<?r, and include 
official and private pa|M>rs of very various kinds, the literary 
texts having been already published elsewhere. The editor, as 
in the case of the first volume (published in 1803), is Mr. F. O. 
Kenyon. An atlas of facsimiles, containing 123 plates of dated 
papyri, will Ih- published at the same time. 

» •  » 

A journal specially devoted to the study of Greek papyri is 
iilxiut to Ih- founded. The publisher is to be Teubncr of Leipzig, 
and the oilitor is Prof. I'. Wilcken, tho leading continental 
authority on tho subject. Tho prospectus contains the names of 
eleven scholars of various countries who have promise<l to 
collaborate in tho projsisiHl journal, among whom no less than 
four are English- Mr. B. P. Grenfell, Mr. A. H. Hunt, Mr. F. 
G. Kenyon, and Prof. Mahalfy. Tho first pjirt is to apjiear 
in I89U. 

July 30, 1898.] 



With the fall of Santia|;o new rumoiini of peace negotintiuni, 
.111(1 with |)eueo, hiatorica. Hiiit'irios of the war with S|i)iiii 
(jiiuniinin^ now for tlio moment that j><«ur«i is r«>ally at hand) nrw 
pii>«ontly to 1)0 aa nuniproua in tho Statt-a ai the war'a caaiwltidn 
..M land and at Hoa. Tho loading iiulilic no«d not oxp«>ct 
lliousandH of hiatorion Ixiforo Chrii(tma» : ixirhapa hiindrudu, or 

 oros, will provo a cloaiT oatiinatu. Still, tho aituation i« ^ravo 
' noufjh to warrant mJKnivincH. Amtiri<:a has l)«>«m warring 
11,'HiiiKt an unknown i|Uiintity strong i>noiigh to liomhard lu^r 

iliiiK on tho foant, or weak, rolativoly, as the nativi'K of Mi'xii-o 
and I'oru wcro to Spaniarda in Spain'a primo ; l>rutally <'niul in 
vi-atorday'a doapatc'hL'a, hut in tho news of to-day chivalrouH and 
' '"urU'Ous. It is not eaay to write a true atory with one princi|)al 
rliaractur an unknown (piantity. Going a littlo deeper into the 
iiiall<>r, one nee<l not fear contradiction when making tho atate- 
iiiont that, in thu oorrcapondence liotweon the Unitfd Htati-s and 
Spain since war l»'f;an, it has soniotiniea lieun ipiilo apparent 
lliat tho d<ia|>al<'liua liad one moaning to tho sender and (piil<! 
anotlier to tho recipient — a Tra;;o<ly of Krrora - a rather fatiil 
ctirrcspondonco lietwecn a nation that puts the accent upon 
nianncT and a nation that i^niplmsizcH matter. 

»  * # 

One of tho Now York journals, attentive to new literary 
«Pl)ortunitio8, has made the following editorial comment on this 
matter : — 

Those whose amjuaiiitance with thu 8puniab people has been won by 
rlosr ohsiTvation know that even the simple facts of a traveller's personal 

\perience in Sjiain cannot be narratid without arousing incredulity in 
jtii a\'erHge American audieni-e ; that the untravelled listener or reader is 
bewiUlered among eharacters whose manners and forms of address, whose 
motives and philosophy of life, are so completely at variance with his 
own. It is not merely that the auditor finds himself among people who 
asy " Good-bye " when " How do you do 'i " is expected ; who, when 
you praise their house, will say, " It is yours ": among gentlemi n who 
will follow and pay compliments to an unprotecti'd woman, yet without 

fVcneu ; among gentlewomen who enjoy the bull-light, but will not lift 
ilieireyes from thi; pavi'ment when they walk in llie streeis ; among 
»liopkee(KTs who, when yon ask if they have a eertsiu article for sale, 
may reply, " Ciod knows " ; among eorresp<mdenta who ass rt that they 
" kiss your hand " when they mean no mnn' deference than is eonlained 
ill a simple " yours truly." 'I'liese are obvious external dilTeri'nces ; 
tile ri'al (question relates to dilTerences in the conception of life an<l duty. 
.\iul here, it seems to us, is an extraordinary opportunity olfered to the 
Ameru'an novelists. In the ."^iianisb and i^|)anish-.\mericau ty[x>s a new 
lleM wuuM seem to lie open to those talents that hive been admirably 
busieil with tho Southern miuiiitaincer, the New Koglander, the negro, 
tl»\ AVestrrn minor and cowboy. 'Hie present diHieulty with Spain sug- 
gests a eurious problem that is to lie worked out in this hemisphere - 
l'erhn|>s one of the most imfortant problems of the future, both for the 
I'nited States and for the Hepublies lying south of us. lliis new world 
has niaile strange bedfellows. The problem eoufrouts us now aiiil extends 
iudclinitely into the future, for it grows out of the juxtaposition of races 
that have diiliculty in understanding each other, yet somehow must reach 
an iiihiUr. 'llio whole Held lies ojien to (M-aceful literary conquest. 
« « « « 

Mention has already l)oon made in LitrralHre of Mr. C. K. 
Matluiwa' forthcoming " Annals of Mont HIanc." Another 
liook now ready for publication, dealing with a kindred subject, 
Ih "Tho Kurly Moinitaini«>r8," by Mr. Francis Gribblo. As tin- 
two volumes tlireutoned to some extent to clash, tho authors 
have nindo arrangements to avoid repeating each other's stories. 
A great feature of Mr. Mathews' biiok will Ih> the rohabilitiition 
of Dr. Paccard, whoso fame has In'on somewhat suix-rsodiKl by 
that of Jacques Balmat, hut of whom a (ienova poj-t wrote in 

De fnussiiiv a la I'iine est arrive trop lard 
Et deji\ le .Mont HInnc etsit le Mont I'aiTanl. 

Mr. Ciribble's book will deal with the exploits of such early 
mountaineers as Petrarch, Leonardo da \ inci, Donipiuliaii de 
lk>aupr^, Conrad Gesner, and Jean AndnS de Luc. 

* » » • 

Mr. C. J. Cntcliffe Hync, principally known a« a writer of 
.short stories, will, early in the autumn, publish a book of travel, 
entitled " Through Arctic La|>land," which will describe a 
summer journey overland from the \'aranger I'iord tt) the (Julf 
of Bothnia. Mr. Hyne discovered that the maps of this neigh- 

hourhooil liriitlo with orrora, aboumling, for iiwtiuioe, with 
imaginary towtta while ignoring real river*. 

• • • • 

.Mr. Arthur H. Norway, the author of '< Highway* and Hyo- 
waya of Devon and Cornwall," riKSfntly reviewed in r>ur coliiraiia, 
is at present ongBge<l njxm a work ilealing with Yorkahire, which 
will bo published by Messrs. Macmillan during next year. 
« • • • 

Wo are aut)iori/.e<1 to state that the " Ktchingham I 
whi<-h have altractwl some attention in the Cnmkill M . , 

are written by Mrs. Fuller Maitland and Sir Frtnleritk Polloek. 

• •   

Enthusiastic Colts have hail difHculty for fmio time past in 
finding strong enough language when sfieaking of Mr. Aialrew 
Lang. They have not forgiven him for his " Pickle tho Spy." 
not to mention more recent and e<pially rank olfen'-"-*. In tlm 
course of a (taclic address, delivere<l at the annual nuM'tiiig of the 
(iaolic Society of Inverness tho other evening, tho Rev. Angus 
Ma<.-Donald, minister of Killearnan, in denoun ing " I..owland 
scribblers who hiul cast reflections upon Highlanders." classotl 
as chief among thcni Mr. Lang, whom ho chiiracteri/ad as " an 
unsanctilied Gentile, who lia<l not left unraked a dunghill in tho 
country in his search for a cu<lgel with whii'h to maltreat the 
Highlanders, particularly those who roae in the 'in." Nemesis, 
it Eoenis, is on his tra<-k. " IJefore the last dog is hanged, Mr. 
Andrew Lang will receive cha.stisement that, in the old saying, 
will make him forget the death of his old grandmother." One 
reipiires. jiorhaps, to lie a Celt to fully appreciate this threat. 
Mr. Lung, however, is unreiientant. Indee<l, he claims, it 
seems, to have obtitine<l further jiroof of tho identity of Pickle 
with Alastair MacDonnell, of Glengarry, and his new volume, 
which we announced last week, " The Comi>anions of Pickle," 
will, no doubt, cause as much iudignation in the High- 
lands as its pru<lecessor. Kut it is idle, at this time of day, to 
deny that there was a seamy side to the Jacobite rising. 

•   « 

A me<1allion of Sir \Valter Scott bas.been plac«<l on tho gable 
wal'l of tho house at Prcatoniians in which ho live<l for a time 
when a boy of eleven years of age. 

«  « • 

The Scottish jioet, James Hyslop, tho author of " Tho 
Cameronian Dream," whoso centenary has been rei-ently cele- 
brate<l_at Sanquhar, was born in 171*8, and began life as a cow- 
herd. Most of his education was gaine<1 on the hillside, where he 
condiine<l the study of books with the giianling of his e-altlo and 
sheep. Lord Jetfrey, who took an interest in him, then got him 
apiMiinteil tutor (in boanl H.M.S. Doris, and for tl^ 
Hyslop was away at South America and elsewhere. In i 
interesting " Letters from South America " from his |ien a|>- 
pear»Ml in tho Eiliiibiinjh Mtvimine, and he also wrote a numlH-r 
of poems. Through the influence of Lonl Sjicncer he was ap- 
{loiuted tutor on H.M.S. Twoe<l, but he died of fever on boanl 
that vessel. His masterpiece, " The Cameronian Dream," ap- 
|H>ared in tho Eilhihurgh Mminzitie in 1S21, and attracted notice 
not only in Scotland but also in Kngland aii<l America. Several 
of his other |>ooms, notably his " Scottish National Melody," 
are cert.iinly much above meili(Krity. A small collection of his 
p.oetic work was published in 1887. 

« * • • 

That the total sum rais<>d by the c<>mmittce in charge of •)■.. 
Robert Louis Stevenson memorial (jhould only amount to al>.i.i 
£1.400 has disappointed a go(Hl many jersons. Doubtless tho 
comimrative smallness of the sum is due partly to there having 
been far too many memorial schem(!S of lat« ; but there is also 
roason to fear that the matter has been in some little degree 
mismanaged. It was unreasonable, for instano, to ex}ert the 
l>nblic to subscribe heartily without having some kind of e 
as to what was likely to be done with the money. Many pro;- ;~ 
were mooUnl, but which the committee favour(>d was kept a j ro- 
found secret till long after the 8ul)scription list was cloaod. As 
to the committee's decision now, no .serious fault om be found 
with the resolution to place a miu-al mouumeut in St. Giles' 



[July 30, 1898. 

rathodr*!, with » merUllion poHrtiit nf Stovenmin in liifth rKlinf. 
But th» pro|K>Ml, " if th* •mount of tli«» miKirriiilioii i* mifll- 
rirntly iniT«»ns<Hl,"' t«> plarr h •' linmliiomp r«xl f^rniiito Kent 
upon tho i'altnii Hill, overlookini; the Firth nf Kortli, is jmrhaps 
nmnrwhat Klwiinl. Thin "hiimlKomf rml pranJU< " «<>nt ir inviiiit t" 
moft the ninhPH of thoKC mlniirfrH of St4>vi>nHi>ii who think hi> 
■hoiihl havp Komi> " oppn-iiir " nit-mxrial : nml nt th>< oiiino tinio 
it fvmleii th<' ohjo-liotiR whii-h I.i>r<l HokoIhtv rihI many olhom 
havo to any iwlilition to thti niinibi<r of Ktlinliiir^h .ilatium " fi(An<l- 

iiiC HI ihi' o|i(Mi-air." Ihit it i* Hi-arrely a liriiliitiit su{<K<''<ti»n. 
» • • « 

Ml . Aii<;ii(ittiiiSaint-nsitii1(<nR, the Amorican snilpt<ir to whom 
thfi rnmRiisfiion for thi* Sl4iv(<nR0n nn-niorial hao h(*on »ntrilKt«x1, 
m*t St*v«»n«on in Anxrira in 1887 ami 18S8, and pot Rittingn 
from him. A nkpt^-h of tho K'nntifiil l>»(i-r<>liof which h«> then 
mo<l»>llo<l was rpiir'xini'wl in tht^ I'mlmii Mniiniinr fur .Iniio of 
la«t year. Th<< hoa<l, it Ik iinilerKtoorl, is to lie ustol for thu K<lin- 
bar(;h memorial. 

• « « 

A r»H*nt nnmU'r of thi> Fur E'lil, tho first .JnpanoRP niacHziiip 
printwi in our UnRtiHcn in Jnpiin, has iin pxhaimtive nrticlp on 
th«> .l»f»tn««i«» theatre. Arcording to traHition, the JapaneRn 
cirama wan <lerivo<l. like that of the (Jreeks, from a danro p»'r- 
formed fur the propitiation of a RURreptilile deity : 

\Vh*'M till- From-lli-»Ti'ii-F!*r-ShininR-nin', thi- Hiin-dodHe^s, Hiif^ry Ht 
brr miM'htevitiw Mit'in-Brfittwr. hid h*'rwlf in « ciivi', and thrn* w«r 
darkni'M in heaviii mid caitli, fhf Karth-CiHlii nsM'mhled in solpmii cnn- 
rUTf. Mid fl**TiM-d All hiBiincr of ciiiiiiiiij; in%-rtitinti> to i-xi'ite hor ruriosity 
and fntir«> her mil. Thfv r»-»clii-«l the f-fim-liisioii that nothing would 
«n«w<r th«- piirpoM- N-lter than a wirn'd daiici', whieh t<-ni|it(d th<' 
hrar^-nly lady t«> rnmr out, thiia )>uttiiif; an end to frlipw and darknrM. 
la nhort. Ib# allir^ Thrspian and Tl■^p^i^hnrl•all ait in this uiiiiiitry i» 
Mipposeil to haTi' taken rout in pre-Ad-'iinit.*- AyCPH. 

The writer Mirmisf.'! that the theatre— in collofpiial .liipntietie 
" ShiKai " or graaa plot was jirob:ihly onrc a jtiiRtinieof mildiers 
in ramp. A tower, which untiqiiaiioR helieve to hiivc lieeii a 
battle turret, form«><l a principal feature, and lla);R Iwaring tho 
namex of the actors are Rtill Ret up in old-faahionefl " Shiluii." 
The drama i» well known to be a whole day'd enjoyment in 
.Tapaii, though lately an " ei^sht hoiirR hill " hafl attempted to 
rcRtrain the appetite of playgoers, who complain bitterly that 
the drama cannot laat any longer. Wixe people make arranpe- 
menta at a tea stall in tho town for their comfort dtirinp the 
" eight hours." Tlioae who cannot afford luxuries are in danger 
of being relegated to the " Oikomi " (" Privun in place "), 
otherwia*' called " denf gallery." In old days the actor was 
d«-«pi»ed, aa a Kawaramono (" Performer on a dry rivor-lM'd "), 
or a ■' Koyamono " ( " An occupant of a hut "). Nowadays hf is 
lioniMwI. Hi' mnat, however, choose the name and crest of some 
illiiiitriott* Th«iipian family. Not content with a «i<»m «fe phimr, 
he haa also a " simpHfled stage name." The {ireaent .Tapanese 
Irving has almost as many p<rRonaliti<R as Mr. (iiIh<rt"R " f'ooh 
B«h  : at horn" lie is Shu florikoshi ; on the stage " Ichikawa 
iHiFijiiro  : atxl iN'hind fli.' scenes " Naritnya." Kornitrly 
fn- were grfn-Uil with a shower of t'Oliai'Co |MiiicheB, 

I'M- I. y are awarded a " makii " or curtain for the 

froift of the singe a s<imi'What aiubigiious gift, isThaps. The 
feniah' parts are t<ikeii by men, carefully trained ami nHiially 
dresMNl aa women in their homes, (hir stage managers have 
something to leant from tlieir brothers in .Ia|iaii : for example, 
the j-otiafruetinn of a " Mawari-Oiitai," or revolving stage. 
" At a signal this movalde stage whirls roiitid, prent'ittiii^ tlu' 
diflerent f^eiie of a houi'e or garden in « play." 

• • « « 

• ' ^fv*' the Re^nning : A T"»1<» of «n Kn'fern T snd " in to 
K 'by Mr. '' ••In 

fi " and I ify,  

which will -^ by Mr. Orant Kichards in the autumn. 

ft deals wit;. .. n characters, both Ktiropean and Mal.iy ; 

th« ik*n# in laid' first In an independent Malay State, and later 
in a distant otit-statlon in a Rfate mider British protection. 
The n'>ve1 will he foimd Ui contain a cmsiderable amount of 
la g U te ii t, bitt tilt prfiKiptl «im «f this, a* of Mr. riiff<)rd's 

former books, is to illustrate the charftvter and the psychology 
of the Malays in their primltire and iinsixiileU atate. 

•  •  

" Alhol ForixiK," whose first book, entitled " CasBock and 
Comedy," was publisheil oidy a fi'W months ago, is now at 
Work tipon a new iKiok to he called '■ .\ Knight of the 20lh 
Century," which will Rhortly be issued as a serial. It dealr. 
with the RUpfi<>sititii<itK world of one hundreil years hence, and is 
to Ih- optimistic in tone. The Final War is descriliod, and the 
early days of a new i>ra of InivovRal Peace and I'liiversal Free 
Trade. In tho lealiwition «if this liafipy vision a main factor Is 
an air-ship, the coliRlrticlion of which is fully described. The 
hook deals with an entirely new politii-al and s<icial Ryst«<tn, and 
not a few of the nincteenlli century institutions receive rather 
rough handling. It may not lie generally known that " AthnI 
Forties " is flic pseudonym of tho Hev. Forlnis Philli|>s, vicar of 
ttorleslon, (iieat Yarmouth. 

• * «  

Tile new novel on wlii<'li Mr. .lanfes T,aiie .MIcii has been 
engaged for Kcveral months will not lie ready before the <(utiinin 
at the earliest. Owing fo the sncceKR of " The Choir Invisible," 
thi're is a great demand for his work in AmericJi. In the 
I'nited States in spite of tho war, which has causiHl con- 
sti^rliation among several of tho publishers — Mrs. Huiiiphry 
Ward's new novel lias been eagerly greeted, and tlio first edition 
is said to liavi' been exhausted within a few days of publication. 

• « » * 

" Si(loli;:lil8 of Nature," by Mr. K. Ticknor Kdwardes, with 
illu.><trations by Mr. O. V. Hail<<, is likely to be followed, at 
inti'rvals, by two other works of llie same character by the same 
author and artist, one of which will probably 1h< called " On the 
Koad," and the other " Winter l.ifo on Marsh and Ur<iad " ; but 
at proKont Mr. Kdwardes is at work 0)1011 a book which is some- 
thing of a new dd|)nrturo for liitn — a love-story dealing with both 
ciiiintry and town life. 


ProfesHor .1. Ri'ynolds Grooii, tho author of the well-known 
" Manual of lJ4itany," \h at present preparing a work on tho 
I'norgani/ed Ferments, or Kiijiymt^s and Kermeiitiiticui. The 
Professor feels that there has been so much research tijMin so 
many of those bodicR during the last ten years which has been 
published in dilforeiit journals, Ixith English and Continental, 
that it is now very desirable to have it all brought together in 
the interests of physiologists of both tho animal and vegetabh' 
Worlds. This Iwiok will probably 1m> piiblishtMt by the Cambridge 
t^nivelsity Press, in connexion with Mr. Shipley's series of text- 
books. Messrs. .1. A A. Chuii'hill are likely l<i publish Professor 
fireen's " liitroiluction to Vegotablo Physiology" early next 


« »   

Messrs. Kyre and S|M)ttiswoodc have sent us tho prospectus 
of "Queen Victoria's Treasures at Windsor Castle," whioh they 
pro|M)se issuing by subacri|ition. The work will he piiblisheil in 
four Sections, each \mri containing ten plat^-s from water-colour 
ilrawings by Mr. William (iibb, and the descriptive lolU'rpreas is 
being written by the Manpiis of l,orni>, (lovernor of Windsor 
t'astle. LKHI copies are to be oll'eroil for sale, and of those KKI 
will Im) iiinnbereil and signed. It is noteworthy that thu whole 
nf this siiiiipliious work is to bo uxocutod in tho ollico of tho 
yui-eii's pi intor.K. 

> < • « 

A iii'nenieiit is on fool to reissue in Kn^lainl " The Dream 
of Dainfier, and Other Poems," by nn Irish barrister, Mr. Oernlil 
Hertry f^upple, who in i»nrly life was associated with Sir Charles 
ftavan DufTy as a contributor to the Naf'nm, atid wrote a 
" Iliatory of Irolaiiil " ; but who for many years has resided 
in Australia and New Zoalan<l, whore most of his poenia h.ive 
heert written. " The Dream of Uampier " originally appeared 
in the pigos of the M'lbimrne lit.H>u- as far back as January, 
1«71», when it attracted gtHX «ttertti*n in Iit«f«fy dii'cles 
throughout Aitstralin. 

,r,ilv .'-in iROfi ] 

i,rn:ir\'n HF. 


Tho SiiiniiH'i >uinli<'i i«l tlio / "" Mnll Mm/'i i"' lont.iiiiM 
tlifl '•I'fiiinn '•liiil'ti'rH f)f a Htory by Mr. H. R. Cnvkotl ralloil 
" 'I'ln' Silvnr Skull." " K. NiHl>it" linn « Klmrt talc, Honicnlial in 
llin iiiHiiiinr iif Mr. Kxiiiiotli (iralianiti " l><>, tliii I'lHir Iiiiliaii," 
mill tlmri- In » cliariiiiiiK ac^'ouiit of " A CoInwoIiI Vill«)j<i " l>y 
•' ('(ilii-St.-I)«'niii»." Mr. Willinin .Arclicr'n rotimrk» iiii " Knvoiil 
■XmcritMn Voim- " arc wnrlliy i>f ii<iliit>. Tbn yoiiiigpr AinoricHii 
pootn, he miyN, 

nr<- nil pnri- l}'ri*ln, or at monl bnlladihlN ; imk oiii- "f tlirni hIi.iWk 
till' nliitlilrit l>i-ut tiiwanls i-iiii' or ilrania. Munorrr, tliiy art' all 
< iiiini'Utlv Niaiil anil n ^IM clulilr, 'niiTi- in iiol n liaci- of ByrnniHin ih- 
rally .Swinliiii'iiiHiii lo Ih' riHinil nmoiiK tliriii. rmnpiiriiiK tluiii (if 

rninpiiiT tlirm wr iiiu-l) Willi our yoiiii)!>r niiiKitn mi thin i>i<li' of tin 
.\tluntic, wr slmulil nay llial llir .\nii'riraiiii hIihwiiI moiv rrcii a<'roiii|i|i.'.li- 
iiimt with lc'i>» indiviiiiialily luiil Rmnp of lifi'. 

» * *  . 

8onn' iimiRnully interi'Mliiig autii^rHpli U-ttiTa of Sir WbIUt 
Scutt mill Percy B. Shi'llf'y nrK b«'iiiB hdIiI t<>-il«y (Satiirday) nt 
tho last salt' of tho a(>H8on at Mosnrs. Hiitln'l)y'». Tho.HO of Soutt, 
niiio ill iiiinilMT, aro iiiHortod in ii roil morocco volume, ami ilato 
from l.'<(Hi to IS.'il. 'I'lin socoiiil ill |ioiiit of (Into i» a<lilro»Noil to 
.Millor, llio liookNollor, of Alliomarlo-.stroit ho wa.s kihcooiIciI 
thoio liy .lohii Murray anil in it ho oxproNNoa tho opinion that 
"tho Eii^liah coiniHlioa of morit aro much moro numoroup than 
tho trajjoilioH." lii a loltor ilaloil F'ohriinry I, IM'JX, to (loratio 
Smith, ho critioi/.oN Loij;h Hunt, Sliolloy, Kyrmi, ami others — 
" BS for poor ShoUoy, I aluayN tlmujiht thoro was a atraiii of 
insanity both in tho charactor of hia poniu.s anif of hia roligioiis 
optnioiiN."' Tlio hiKt of tho fiorioR is dattil froiii Abbotufonl, 
Soptomliir I'J, I81U, 1111(1 is adihcsNoil to I'r. Tiariliior. It ii< 
oiipoiially iiitorostinn, as tho followinj; oxtiaot .shows : - 

I am ilosiroiis to mopt your winhes, ami if you wi«h mp to briiip up 
the vohiinp tn XSO or 100 pagea, I .nboiilil ronniiirr myddf i>« houiid to ilo 
no at thr Mini* rate of lopy money which »«.■. flxed in the ori(;in.-<l -thai 
is, Jt'.'iOfl for hiilf a vnliimc iiiittrail of AM, 000 foi- a whole onr. My time 
in so mliiHhle to nir in every point of view that I «»»iire yon I am far 
from lieinK a (tainer by proponiiiif this, which will gifc the piihli^ber* half 
a TOlnnie for nothiiiR. What I propose to ailil, Rm<>i>K ntlu r tliiiiRK, is a 
):enrral view of the Scottish eliaraiter in Kiag ,)ame«'s time, which i.s a 
curious subject. 

Tho Shelley letters are tweiity-tlireo in mimK>r, ami arc 
(iivitUxl iiiUi four lota or voluniea. Tho tirst volume includes nine 
octavo ami ipiarto hitters, aomo of which have »ppi>aroil in Pro- 
fessor Dowden's " Life" of tho poet. One of the earliest, datud 
Dec. 18, 1810, is to Stockdalu, tho bookseller and publishur of 
Tall Mall, and has roforenco to •' JJastrozxi " : — 

1 have in pre|>aratioii a novel ; it is principally constructed to convey 
niclaphysioil and political opinions by way of convcrnation. It shall Ih) 
 nl to you as soon «« completed, but it shall receive more correction 
than I trouble myself lo give to wild romance and poetry. 

A letter to tho Messrs. Oilier, fiom Pisa, March 13, 18'J0, 
has this sontenci' relative to '• Tho Conoi " : — 

My friendu here have Rreat hopes that " The Oiici " will .succeed as 
\ publication. It was refused at Drury Ijsne, altboufch especially written 
f'lr dramatic exhibition, on the pleii of the story lieinK too horrible. 1 
believe it is sinf^ularly IH for the sta^e. 

Tho fourth of the four Shelloy volumes of letters, all 
uldreastHl t<i Leigh Miiiit, includes a very tine epistle critici/.iiig 
l.aiiili's Works, and com|Hirin<; the paintings <>f Ktiphaol and 
.Michaid .\ngolo ; - 

1 hsve written somclbinf; and finished it difTerent fi-oin Hiiythiiif; else, 
:iiid a new nttrinpi for me, iiml 1 mean to ib-dit-ate it to you. I slioitbl 
nnt have done so witthnit your approUition, but I aftked your picture last 
nigbt , and it smilcil nssent. If I did not think it in some ticgiee worthy of 
vou, I would not miikc you ji public olTeriiin of it. If Oilier is not turned 
('hristiaii. .lew, or hoconie infictid with the murrnin, he will publish it. 
Don't let him he frlRhtined, for it is nothinK which by any courtesy of 
language can be tertnetl either moral or imniorul. 

VnothtT lotter in this quartette is dated Pisa, Ootober 6, 1821, 
.ind has reference to a pondinp visit from Leigh Hunt — "Lord 
Byron is expected every day, and I know [he] will ht? delighted to 
hear of your coming. ' ' In addition to these well selecte<l collections 
of Shelley letters there are four others of considerable interest, 
ftll written at Marlow and addrened to Oilier, the publisher— 

..lie, oat. .1 .Tanusry 22, t«IH, hKvinx rwfwrnrr • - •• t'- »»-r ,lt of 
lalani " : - 

I wipiMiw .it preient that H lit «t (dl II i 

reviews or notiio« uf it hi any i ; '("rf pr»y ••••d 

jiart iif my reward the »inu«eineni oi lienntix Ilk' alaiao «l lb. i.i^' ' 
» • » • 

On Tliursday, .Inly 21. Messrs. I'littick A ,Sim|i«H>ii sol. I 
may, by a stretch of imaijination, U' styli><l a relic of «. 
enterprise, as conceived by .l.>hii Itngford. 1 
large and very thick folios, full of old title )• , 

prinlera' devicea, oriiaiiiHiital head and tail piocoa, (tnnraila, 
facfliniilea of early printing, cartouches, Ac, all torn or (til 
at some period or other from laHika, many of which wer* obviously 
of uonsidprahle interest and Viiliio. It ia s«tisfa«t<iry in know 
that tho whole (iothic collection, which must hiive t«k«n yi<*ri 
Ij> form, only reali'/.pd ten guineas. Ketween the ('■ .  r and 

the mere collector of title-pages thern is a wide ili Tho 

latter acuumiilales without int' while the tiuiiicr, wlioao 

pleasure it is to extra-illuri ss, must at leaj,t l>e well 

conversant with the U>xt. Both aie, however, piilty of wholeaala 
destruction, and quite unworthy of sympathy. 

* • • • 

M. Ilosland, whose heroic comedy " Cyrano de Pergerac" 
has lioen such a complete success at the Lyceum Theatre during 
M. foipielin's short visit, is writing another five-act '  •  -i! 
play for Madame .Sirali B(>riihardt, with the Due de I 
for the central hgiire. It is likely to \w tu-fu at the Th.atre .le l.i 
R«iiaiR.saiice early in SeplenilH'r, though tie author has not yet 
C(dlecte<l all his iiiateri.'ils, in fact, he has _ust atirted for Vienna 
ill search of •'documents"; and as bo does not generally U-giii 
to writ«i until he has these all arranged and the plan of the drama 
ready in his mind, be will not have very niucli time in which to 
complete his contract. However, .M. Rostand says that he doe* 
not mind writing against time in this way. Hx wa« presaeMl Ui 
come over to London for the production of Cyraito, but couM liot 
give himself a hidirlay just now. Madame Kontnnd, by th* *".♦, 
is an (thoiigh not a professional actress) of much clever- 
ness, and once at tho Porte St. Martin played the part of Koxaiie 
upon an emergency with great success. 

-» • « « 

.M. Remy d« Gonrniont's article " 8ur la langue frunfaise 
in tho .July niimbur of the Mrrrnif lir Frani-t is in the main a 
defence of neologism, of tho formation and adoption of n. w 
words for new uses. Among the examples he givea are ;> 
(for alltr & bicijdcHr), trlt^-ofier, and ma!/eii<i(/fu.r, which i.,.*., 
recently been attackiKl by M. Deschanel in his Ltt I>rfnnnalinn* 
lit la InnijHf fiani;ii\!'r. But M. de Goiirmoiit is alive to the one 
gieitt danger which meimi-es both language and litt-rattire in 
France as in Kngland : — 

Mais en m^ine temps que lea enfsnts apprennent dans In prisons 
si'oUii-es ce i|ue la vie ?eule Irur enneijfnait autrefois et misux, lU ft' !'■ • 
sous la peur de la grammaire cettr liberie "IVsprit qni fatMTt Mr^    
si sKT^^ablo a la fnntaisie dans I'l'vohriion verbal*, lis par'- 
les livres, comme Ics niKuvais livres, el d^s (pi'ils ont A dire <]' 
de grave, c'cst au moyen de la phraaridogic do ittle l>aMn litl. i 
morale et utiliUtirc dont un aoiiille leiir* cervraux tendrr* ct in i 

.\nd when the child (rrows into a man, M. do Ooiinnont con- 
tinues, f<.<ding the incapacity of the frigid •• - ilect " for 

the eXi>re»sion of his emotions, he takes refii„ _■. with the 

ii'Siilt that in the lower quarters of Paris Kreiich is a d.-.-id 
laiiguiige. Fn L(Uiilon we are leas fortiltuite. Ilur Ifcaird Scho-.l 
pupils tind the same fault with the dialect which is taught th«n, 

but tll.'V, tefugO in a SIMi'l.. I ile 

The /,.■■/ .y,r /'.<rf has . a series cj articles on 

cont«mpi^rary English artists r in its July numbvr by 

Mr. M. H. Spielmann on the work ot Mr. O. F. Watts. 

* -» « « 

An inc • 
to confuse 1 1 :  • ; 

in connexion wnth the Michelet celebration. The»Sir-/^.a leading 
organ of rerisioa of the Dreyfus trial, m-e«M the otboT 4ay 



[July 30, 1898. 

(h*i Ml od« whioh M. Miiuric«> Bouchnr wm rM]iio*toc1 to wnte 
for tfw oelobratioii whii not noul, U^cauito " th« |>o(>t hnd had the 
improdewM t» put intt> it tho word j«uitii«." M. Maurict> 
li<tuch<>r withdrow his %'t>rikyi. iiiiwilliiif; t<> muko thi* alti-rations 
which M. Bour|;poi«, MinixttT of Kdiictttioii, proitncd upon him. 
** I Me," said thi< poet, " that I am not madu to sin;; in ottjcial 
oeraiiMMiiea." Tho following oxtractd from a lett<<r addrvmed by 
him to the Siiclf explainn hi« attitude : — 

J<- i1oi« dirv i I'hoiinrur de U. Bourgooix qu'il iu> m'intonlisait p*> 
da ptMOoiKUT If mot <!«• *' jurticr." J 'en >i ni^me iti fort touch*. 

D*iw l<« drux stroiihrii inrrtmio^cK, j'aroiiiiiii qui' nou« rt-Nwinbloiui 
Mob iwa k noo aints, i ikm nuiltm : Micbrirt, Hugo, Quinct : que nnun 
>vnn> laiKM n'afTiiililir vn noun Wur enprit ; et j<> It'ur a<lri-K.sai.i un 
animit afipi'l pourqu'iU uoh« aiilfiit i " rajipreudn! " an nioiidi- qui' lu 
Krmncp mi le champion du droit. 

TrIIra aoot lea air* doot rfxpn-»iuD r&t, paralt-il, etc d6placic au 
Pantheon. . . . 

Pmt-itrp dois-jp ajontrr que M. \e ministro a'eat montri, i moii 
iganl. rzquiM-nM>nt courtoiK. II a bipn voulu iirrdre un heure de non 
t«Bp» in aiinablea li»tance« |>our mo faire Kupprimer lea deux xtruphus de 

I pucme que je tvnaia le i»lu.s i conservcr. 

Malgri tout le regret que j'ai eu de ne pan ceder ft dcs instanrcs 
•i llatteiuHW, je me rjjouix de n 'avoir pri.s aui-une ]>art A la glorifioa- 
tioa uflicielle de Miehelet. L'ironic en etait vraimeiit trop cruelle. 

I'royes, eher monaieur, k ma haute ct cordialc sj-mpntbic. 

« « * « 

The French Academy of Moral and Political Sciences Iins 
made honoarable mention of MM. Langlois and Seignobos' 
" Intrtxluction aux Etudes Historiques," re\-iewed some weeks 
ago in LUtrnture. 

• • « • 

A correspondent writes : — 

Signur Ceaare Levi's dimovery at Venice of a nuni\)er of original 
decamants giving tha »ioty of Othello, though apparently a most interest- 
ing cirt.-umi>taDce, can hardly be invested with the great importance 
claimeil for it. A» i« well known, Shakespeare ia almost universally 
believeil to have borrowr<l the plot of Othello from one of tho ten stories 
told in (Jiraldi Cinthio's " Hccatommithi," first published at Monte- 
regale in Sicily in the jiar 156.">. In this storf Othi-llo is called " the 
Hour," and though neither he nor lago is menticne<l s|)eciflcally, both 
these name* are to b<' met with in that curious book, " Uod's Kevcnge 
against Adultery," written by John Reynolds, as well as in the 
" Historie of the Famous Knonlauus, Prince of Denmark," a 4to. Iwok 
publisbml in IfiO.'). From one or other of these books Shakei>)ieare pro- 
bably got Uie naaea Utbello and lago ; while as to the tmgedy itself, 

it agieea most elosaly with tha sloiy as told by Oiraldi except that 
Ueademona, instead of U'lng smo(ber»l, was, in the Italian version, 
iH'aten to death with a storking Ullid willi sand. Signor I.ivvi's docu- 
mentary eviilence obUineJ, it is believed, from tlie arehives of tlio 
family to which Pesdemona belonged — shows that slit* really livetl, as 
also did lier hiisl>:ind, but that the latter, so far from murdering her, as 
alleged, men'ly lx<at her on s<'veml occasions. Signor I.,<'vi has also 
discovered the Itaptisnial certiUcate of a son lK>m to Othello ami 
D<'S4lemona Falnia, iis her real name was, and on the whole inclines to 
the belief that Slmkes|>eare got his plot, not from any book, but rira 
rore from the Venetian Ambii.viador of his day. 

The difficulty in the way of this assumption is chiefly historical. 'I'lie 
peritMl of action as repiesenteil by Sliakes}ieare is certainly about 1570, 
for it Kas thin that .Mustapha, the general of Solymus, attackeil Cyprus ; 
and it was then also, or at any rate about that time, that the wilea of 
lago and the mail jealousy of Olhi'llo were working to their inevitable end. 
In 1570. however, Shakespean- was only six years old, and it is incou- 
ceirable tliat he could hnve heard anil remembered the story from con- 
temporary sources. Far more likely that liiralili had it from current 
rumour, and if so, the time of Othello's vigorous protests nmst be set 
l>ack to ir>n.'> at the latest, lor it was in that year that the " Hoeatom- 
mitlii " first ap|)*'arrd, a.s previously state<l. The subject even yet stands 
in need of elucidation, notwithstaniling Signor Levi's interesting discovery, 
which is, however, import»nt in that it establishes the actual jwrsonality 
of the chief charact4'rs m .Shakesiieare's famous Trageiiy. The opinion 
has hitherto tM>eii held that Uiraldi invented the story m all its details, 
and that Shakespeare was his debtor for the pint. The last part of this 
Ix-lief is, as yet, quite iinsliaken. 


Messrs. Longmans ask us to stat«t that Mr. Rider Haggard's 
forthcoming serial contribution to LiiiKiiiitiii's J/af/d-.iiK-, called 
" A Fiinner'a Veiir," is incorrectly dpscrilx'd as "a novo!," as it 
will be a truthful record of a farmer's exiH-riencos. 

The eighth volume (covering thu year 1S1I7) of the valuable 
" Annual Index to Peri(xlical»," pniblished by the Reritic of 
Revieirn, will Ik; ready in August. 

Mr. Sharpley Bainbridge's collection of pictun-s at Lincoln 
will form the principal article in the August number of The Art 
Journal, and will be illustrated by reproductions from sonic of 
the many valuable pictures, including a photogravure plate of 
" The Elixir of Love," by (ieorge .1. Pinwell. 

A 1k)o|£ on 8jx)rt in the CaucasiiN by Priiux- Demidolf, a well- 
known European Sportsman, will be publixhed in the Autumn by 
Mr. Rowland Ward of I'iccadilly. 

Mr. John Milne is |iubliKliing " A Oirl of Grit," by Major 
Arthur Grittiths, to be issutKl as a comimnion volume to the same 
author's Well-known novel "The Rome Express," of which the 
Sixth E<liti<>n has just left the press. 


The Woman nt Home. The 
Pall Mall MaKuzlne. The 
Ljuly'a Realm. LaOnfcman'a 
Mairazlna. The Ma^razlne 
of Apt. CaaseU'a Magazine. 
Little Folks. 

lAx- T-'--- - •  " • 


Ooethe's Sntyros and Pt^- 

Ixv. :!i(i^^. !-■ 





Mathlaaon'a Monthly Mtnlnc 
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Investors' Handbook of 
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»>.ad. I^.ri.l.i.. K". .Ml' In. -on. 

B UPWt of Hent7.uu. V. I ^n.,.,,,, 

Ifnjm. 111.1 

<.it>-ijn. ;; 

Wlllowbrake. Hv li. Murruu 
(iilrhrir^t. 7J / ijiii., ^74 pp. L<iiidon. 
ISe*. .Metlmen. 6s. 

New 'Wine. New Bottles. By 

Hdtlii //iiirkiiiK. 7!  .'>iiii.. 331 pp. 
Ijondoii. lKft<. DiKby, Ixjng. 6s, 

Avanclnio Avanolnl, VH'onihrn 
delf.gtKio. .N'ovellupcr l.diovinvtlL 
'i x5in.. 121 pp. Milano. INK. 

Hoepli. L.3.M. 

The'Vellow Dan>;< i' U. P. 

Shitl. 71 • .'liii.. \ i. 'Ion, 

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At the Slg-n of the Stiver 
Crescent. Hj Jl-lm c /v/no'. 

7J • .'*in.. ;tK".* pp. I,'  ' ' Nf.w 

York. 11*«. I 1. «H. 

The AbboU By > '■■'". 

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The QuatOerly Review. The 
Ess ex Review. 



Prose e tpaKedie soelte <ll 

Silvio Priliro, Con prociiiio di 
Fraiwitifv it'Oritiio. 7^xdln., 
xxxlv.-l-Ml pp. Milano, 18»<. 

Iloi'pli. L.I. 

Pansles, Violas, and Violets. 

Hv Churl, r. .f„r,l,f„. I-.H.H..^.. mid 
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Edited by Tl. Ti. ?raiU. 

No. 42. 8ATUB1>AV. ALGL.->T a.»S. 



Leading Article -/.<• .V<*/ Ji/«/< W 

"Among my Books," liy Mnjor .M.uim A. S. TTuino 107 

Poem ■• Iri'l.iiiil : A Iti'tort," liy the Hun. Kiiiily I-fiwlpss 107 
"The Adventure of the Young Man and the 

Pocket-Book," I., l>y i:. Iliiliiic It.-iiii m 100 

Reviews - 

Sir Hicliaid .Mmtlo US 

The First Pliilo^Dphcrs of Grooco W 

Ctihiv I'jist anil I'n-sciil 100 

('h.'itfiiiilii'iitiul iiiid the DiifhoMso il« Duras 1(K) 

Thackoniy - 

Itiirry l.jiidon. tho KllzbowUc I'lipcrs, &c.— Kmiiond 101 

Old Norse liilcratuit' — 

lliiinlrl in li'iilaiiil KyrbyKKJa SnK» I''alry ThIch rroiii tlin Far 

Noilli 102 

Aiiu'ricaii Traits — 

Tninsitllamlc Tnilt«— The Cockney ColumbUH- Oiitlliiesln Local 
t'oloar . 103 

Of»>('k History - 

The riistiiry of Orocco-The.Stxiry of tlic Greeks lOt 

Thoolom' - 

The Honk of the Twelve Prophelx The ReidnniilKN of RnKllxh 
Chiistianily The Theology of an Kvoliitionli'l KH, 105 

Mlnop Notices - 

.\rehitectnre uMinn^f the I'oet>* TIio Churches of the F^jist- Father 
.lohn A Literal Translation of the Hilile-liiincrialirtni-Wlien 
War l<r<'al<s Out -Hlxtory of Corn Milling— The Honianee of 
(ila^i MakiiiK- .\th»sof C'liiR-leal PortraitH -Imlian Village l-'olk 100 


Rupert iif Ht'iit'/nii Ill 

.liH'elyn Chiefly Coneernind Two — Ponolopo'R Expurionee In 
Slot land The Love of a Former Life— An Kpi<>ode in Anuidy— 
FoituTu'ttiate 112, 113 

Foreign Letters -Spain 113 

Prom the Magazines 114 

Obituary Di. .lolni t'aird 114 

Coppespondenoa Shylock in Kasten) Litomtiirt! (I'rot. A. 
V;iml>.ryl Cyrano do UerKemc (Mr. SchUtz Wilson) -Tolstoi— The 
Iniiniirtulity of I'ootry-C'arlaeno ll."), HO 

Notes 110, 117, lis, 110. 120 

List of New Books and Reprints 120 

/./; MOT JUSTt:. 


The question recently liroiiouuded by M. t.'mnille 
Verpniol to a number of notable French lilth'ateiira, viz., 
"What are the (jtialities necessary to be a <;och1 writer?'' 
seemed, no doubt, likely to evoke much .stimulating sug- 
gestion for a youthful literary aspirant. But the replies, 
of which some specimens are given among our Notes, are 
likely to help him just as little as the other easy 
generalities which have so often baffled his search after 
some ready method for obtaining success in English 
comi>osition. Yet, though hardly hel})ful to a beginner, 
these opinions of eminent Frenchmen on a matter on which 
thoy may of all men claim to lie exjierts have no small 
academic interest. And moreover they make us feel how 
wide the English Channel becomes when jwints of taste 
are consideretl. Who, in England, cares a fig about the 
"(juiditics necessiiry to be a good writer *' ? We are not 
here .subscribing to the familiar and sometimes pedantic 
lament as to the present decadence of true culture. But 
at the present day the public is certainly indifferent, and 
proiK)rtionally ignorant, on the excellences and defects of 
Vol. III. No. 5. 

Published by ?hC JilUflS. 

pure siyic. 1' rom vuriotn causes it '■ i" v^aiit oimr 

things than the art oftlictioii, iiii'. lU its higheht 

sense, in the literature provided for it^ perusal ; and if clial- 
lenginl on (pK'stions of style it is apt to d ' ' ' *' •• 
presence or al«eiice of those other thiii il 

considerations of style at all. Yet — or perhaps one 
should .say, therefore — it is worth while to notice how 
differently the French regard the art of " giiod writing," 
and in jmrticular their insistence on a point which has 
never lieen so characteristic of the theory and | *' f 
English prose writers as of French. Le in' 
that is the text chosen by .M. ller\'ieu, M. Doumic, and .M. 
Faguet. If possible its "justness," its "ri ' ' ." ' ; * ' '^t 
preclude the unusual. It may Ik- uncxp. 1 

never harshly surprise. It should only raise the whole to 
a higher ])lane, and reveal its true "justness " by the flood 
of light it casts upon the context. But it must be the 
one woi"d, admitting of no synonym, seizing the one rare 
ojjjwrtunity for using to the full its precise aver: - o. 

The craving for "the one way of expressing one ; ,<• 

word to call it by, one adjective to qualify, one verb to 
animate it," the conviction that nights and days of un- 
remitting toil would at last hammer out the one ideal 
uniijue exjiression of his idea — that may almost be called 
the disease of Flaulu»rt. The belief which inspired him 
has been the chief factor in the formation of that balanced, 
lucid, precise form of speech which we know as French 

In le inol jiiste is embodied the classic spirit. 
But new wine cannot be put into old bottles. Thought 
cannot always be balanced, lucid and jirecise, and the ideas 
of the romanticist move uneasily in the set and orderetl 
limits of classic speech. Style, t'ays M. PriT'vost, should be 
••a perfectly adjusted and transparent garment." But beauty 
revealed and unabashed is often less pleading than beauty 
veiled or half-concealetl, and the garment of sjieecli may 
follow that universal instinct which has always reganled 
dress as no matter of mere utility. But in the self-forget- 
fulness which marked revolt against classicism lies the 
real antithesis to this theory of writing. Mr. I'ater, it is 
well known, was the champion of conscious art. For him 
the aim of literary art was " to do consciously what has 
Iwen hitherto done tix) unconsciously, to write our English 
language as the latins wrote theirs, as the French write, 
as scholars should write." He did not realize that the 
eft'ect of the thought could lie imjwin'd, as it sometimes is 
impaired in his own writing, by the reader's sense that 
the author wants to be comjilimented on his fine phrases ; 
that he is leaning back in his chair and lighting his 
cigarette as he contemplates a complete onlerly concatena- 
tion of inotajustes. " Never stop to choose your words " 
is the burden of another class of literary advisers who 
have had on the whole more vogue in Enjrland than the 
followers of Jlr. Pater. Most of us sympathize rather 



[AugUHt 6, 1898. 

with Lewis CarroU's happy travesty : ♦• Take care of the 
sense and the sounds will t^ike care of themselves" ; and 
our practical sincerity demands the thought, the meaning, 
at the sacrifice of any virtue of style except lucidity. That 
was the view of one of the great masters of simple nervous 
melodious diction. " The art of composing," said New- 
mKn, " which is a chief accomplishment, has in itself a 
tendency to make us artificial and insincere. For to 
he ever attending to the fitness and propriety of 
our words is (or, at least, there is a risk of 
its l)eing) a kind of acting." A fine ])erformance on 
a musical instrument is rapid and largely mechanical — 
at any rate, the performer's consciousness does not dwell 
on details or te<'hnicalities — but it implies an intinity of 
pre\-ious practii-e and labour. And jierliaps in that parallel 
is to b« found tlie theory of gooti writing. At any rate, 
we do not like a writer to labour overmuch, and we have 
a keen nose for self-consciousness, however much it be 
disguised. It may be doubted whether such an inquiry 
a.s M. Vergniol's could have taken place in England. We, 
too, have eminent j/i'Ondtews, whom to enumenite might 
be invidious ; but, though we recognize their eminence, 
we should think they were talking themselves a little too 
eriously if they tried to teach other jwopli- tlie art of 
writing prose. 

Knglish prose, in fact, has never been very amenable 
to rules of art. Its characteristic has lieen the free ex[)res- 
sion of individuality ; and, looking down the stream of 
Knglish prose-writing from the tenth to the nineteenth 
century, one cannot fail to be impressed by the extraordi- 
nary variety of style whicli it displays, tending on the 
whole, in these latter days, towards simplicity and lucidity, 
towards the discovery of M. Jourdain that prose is common 
si)eech, and that if there is no diction, as Wordsworth 
insisted, i>eculiar to poetry, there is no diction i)eculiar to 
])rose either. Tlie change, of course, shows itself not so 
much in the choice of words as in a revolt against the 
Iiortentous sentences of the masters of the seventeenth 
century, and the artificiality of those of the eighteenth, 
Many extravagances have resulted from this revolt, but on 
the special subject of the choice of phrase, although — 
despite the work of sudi writers as ^Ir. Stevenson — we pay 
far less attention to it than the French do, on the 
whole, ])erha]>s, our danger lies in the direction of iH'<lantry. 
One form which it takes is that of j)recio8ity — the cult of 
the muljiigte conducted in an inartistic and irregnlated 
manner. The search for the unusual which M. Hervieu 
recommenils is full of pitfalls, and is only ]>ossible for the 
few. In the seventeenth century it gave us, in Fuller and 
others, some delightful conceits, and it flourished in the 
Kssays of Klia. Writers such as Carlyle or Mr. Meredith 
are a law to th«'mselves, and their merits hardly spring 
from any conscious search after the unexpected. But 
there is a quite different kind of pedantry, into which we 
are in danger of falling. Ac vwt jmle is a flou-er that 
cannot flourish in an exhausted or unchanging atnujsphere. 
It re<]nirefl a language continually growing in richness and 
subtlety. A laudable, though vague, desin* to maintain 
the purity of our language, an excessive deference to 

authority, must not let us imiwverish the language. 
It. was, we think, the late Professor Freeman who 
showered contempt on the word " inaugurate." Vet, as 
metaphor is one of the largest factors in our etymology, 
he could hardly wish to confine the term to its philo- 
logical use, and any word which has an interesting 
derivation and embotlies an idea expresseii exactly by no 
other word has surely a right to existence. Kven a pure 
synonym (if such a thing exists) has its use, for the mot 
juste must not only fit the idea, but fit it under certain 
conditions which one won! may satisfy and another not. 
The English language, whicli has accumulated such vast 
stores from so many sources, has a choice of vocabulary 
probably greater tlian that of any other nation, and, with 
its abundance of early literature and of jirovincial 
dialects — to say nothing of its vigorous life and adaptation 
to new re()uirements and a new society in another con- 
tinent — it has exceptional advantage for renewing its 
supplies. The for " Saxon English " must be 
regarded as a reaction only, and has all the dangers of a 
reaction. It would not be difficult to make out a case 
for the Biblical paraphraser who turned "Abraham 
had no child" into *• Now the wail of the infant liad 
not yet been heard within the tents of the sheik.' 
At any rate, the essential thing is to have a choice 
between old and new, and to remember that suggestive- 
ness and variety have their value no less than siin|ilicity. 


General Sir Richard Meade, and the Feudatory 
States of Central and Southern India. Hv Thomas 
Henry Thornton, C.S.I., D.C.L. it ."n'in., xxv. i :fini pp. 
London, New York, aiid JJouilwiy, IHUS. Longmans. 10/6 u. 

The late Sir Kichard Meade passed the first twenty 
years of liis long Indian service as a regimental or staff 
officer of the Bengal Army. The Mutiny brought to him, 
as to many others, his first chance of distinction. He 
played an imjiortant jiart in the recai)ture of Gwalior from 
the rebels, receiving, as his hiograjjher hints, rather scant 
recognition from his commanding officer, and he caught 
and executed Tantia Tojji, the ablest of the insurgent 
leaders. That episode marked the end of his military and 
the beginning of his administrative career. From 18o{) 
to 1881 he acted as British lv('])resentative in .some of the 
most important Feudatory States, finally winning "the 
blue riband of the political service " as Resident at 
Hyderabad. Im]M)rtant as these jwsts are, in many years a 
man might fill them adecpiately without attracting jmblic 
attention. Twf> ejiisodes brought Meade's ])eriod of office 
into stronger relief, tlie famous trial of the (iaekwar of 
Baroda, and his long duel with the ablest of Oriental 
statesmen. Sir Salar .lang. 

The trial of .Malhar Hao, for the attempted muidii ol 
Col. Pha^Te, proved one of those rare occurrences which 
draw contimjiorary Knglish attention to India. ?'ngland, 
"the victor and successor of tlie Mogul Kmpire," 
summoned one of the great<»st of the l'"(>udatory Princes 
liefore the bar of justice. Mr. Thornton rightly joints 
out that by accepting seats as Judges in the Court of 
inquiry the native rulers for the first time formally 
recognized the supreme jurisdicUton of the Paramount 


August G, 1898.] 




Fow«T. The i«FU«» of the triiil is well known ; briefly, the 
nativo rfpri'scntiitivps on the coniinission hr(iiii,'lit in a 
verdict citluT of not proven or not guilty, the Kn^liitb, of 
whom Sir Hic'liunl Miwie wh*i one, were uniiniHioUH for ft 
coiidcnination. Mr. Tlioniton n-jjrets tliis alwrtive result, 
mill liriiws from it tlie lesson '' tlmt it is a mistake to 
iissociate Orientiil rulers with Kn;,'lisli olHcers on a com- 
mission fur judicial iixjuiries conducte<l after Kn^lish 
methods." Here, we confeHs we do not i|uite follow 
him. ranted that in nil human j)rol)ubility the 
Gaekwar was guilty and that the circuinstantiHl evidence 
ajjainst him was almost overwhi'lmin^, yet there 
was at ft doubt. 'J'iie ftble counsel of the accused 
nlways professed to believe in his inn<H'ence and 
an iuHuential section of the Knglish at first 
HUpi)orted the finding of the native Judges. It is true, 
as .Mr. Thornton shows, that subseipient revelations 
strengthened the case against the jiristyner, but at the 
time of the trial these facts were not laid before theCoiut. 
What we claim is that the commissioners who acquitted 
the Gaekwjir had something more than race prejudice to 
go upon. 

As Resident at Hyderabad Meade was matched with 
" the Talleyrand of India." Sir Salar .Fang in the past hml 
i-eceived high honours from the liands of the Hritish 
(iovernment for pre-eminent services, but, on behalf of his 
master, tlie Nizam, he at times put forward claims which 
amounted to a denial of our Imjierial supremacy. These 
claims the Knglish Resident had gently but firmly to set 
aside, and it says much for his tact and i«tience that in 
spite of this his jwrsonal relations with the Indian Minister 
were never otherwise tiian cordial. 

S]ieaking of some act of Meade's in a jiarticular field, 
Mr. Thornton says it was not " sensational " but " done 
with a viinivium of fuss and friction." The words might 
stand as a description of his life-work. He was always the 
highly trusted subordinate ; his reputation was based 
rather on the skilful carrying out of instructions received 
from his superiors than on any great power of initiative. 
Such a character forms the best type of political officer, 
and in this capacity Lord Lytton declared he wiis fucUe 

In his chapter on the almost forgotten attacks of the 
Slnti'StiMii upon Sir ]{ioliard .Meade, we could wish Mr. 
Thornton had been at greater pains in stating his o]iponent's 
case. He is content to dismiss it as consisting of " out- 
rt^eous nnsstatements and atrociou.s libels." These are 
rather (juestion-begging epithets. We do not wish for one 
moment to suggest that the attacks were justified, and, 
indeed, the otticial correspondence now published for the 
first time forms a complete exonenition, if any such were 
needed, of Sir Richard .Meade's career. But there is 
always latent an uneasy idea that "abuse of the iilaintiflTs 
attorney " is a concomitant of " no" Mr. Thornton's 
vindication of bis hero would only have gained by a fuller 
statement of his opponiMit's position. 

However, this is a very minor blemish in a most 
admirable volume. .Mr. Thornton writes in an easy and 
graceful style. The book, as its title implies, is not solely 
a biography, but also a descriptive account of the 
Feudatory States and the conditions under which thev 
are governed. It is eminently readable, and a great deal 
of information is conveyed in the happiest and 
didactic way. At a time when India looms so large in the 
public eye, we have nothing but welcome for a work which 
so brightly imi^rts a knowledge of our great Empire, and 
of the men who have hel|)ed to make it what it is. 

The book, we may add, is most exctlleutly illustrated. 


The Firat Philosopbeni of Oreece. Ity Arthur Fair- 
oiui. (Till' ICiikI>''<I> •'■III Kuii-iKii l'liiliw4>t>liioil Liliiary.) Kl - 
5)iii., vii. -fi'liiu pp. l»n<lon, IMJn. Kegan Paul. 7/6 

The birth of (Jreek j im 

the beginnings of theo\' ^^y 

which filled so large a plac« in UriH'k religion, took plftco 
early in the sixth century B.C. It owed its origin to tli« 
l)romi)tings of a scientific interert in the ])hyHical con- 
stitution of the world. From what had tin* mass of \i>ible 
phenomena originally sprung? What was the unifying 
principh^ which underlay the multitudinous varieties of 
external nature ':• Was there any one substance from 
which all others had come into being? If so, what was 
it"? Was it air, or fire, or water? \\ hat were birth and 
death? Was non-existence thinkable or unthiiikaMe? 
Was motion real or ajijion'nt ? Such - were 

bound to arise directly tlie leading mind^ ' idative 

])eople began to occupy themselves with the world aroun<l, 
and they are distinctive, to a greater or less extent, of all 
Pre-Socratic thinkers, whether Ionian, or Pythagorean, or 
Eleatic, from Thales to An;: With Sixrates a 

change comes. I'nder his -, thought jtasses to 

another set of problems. He »«w that i)hysic-al inve.stiga- 
tions, before they could be sti»ble, required to be supjwrteti 
by investigations of a different kind. Men might think 
that they .saw truth, but how were they sure their vision 
was not being deceiveil either in whole or in part? 
Behind the (luestion of the nature of the world lay tlie 
deeper question of the nature of man. 

But in the days of I'hales and his more immediate 
successors the j)roblem was nature, and they were first and 
foremost naturalist philo.sophers. They refle<t in a great 
deal of their work the j)oetic genius of the (ireek jx-ople. 
Not only do they at times write in jioetical form, bat 
we often find in their speculations the play of ]X)etic 
imagination. " Their doctrines," says Zeller, " often give 
us the impre.ssion of a philosophic poem full of bold 
invention." Then, .secondly, their f ' rthv of 

the representatives of a i)eople with ; The 

])ripsthood never in (ireece what it wa.-. in Oriental 
countries, or what it was in Kuro}(e during the Middle 
Ages. There were »ac"red traditions, there were religious 
observances, but though " free thouglit " at times found 
itself in serious trouble, yet there was not that opj»re<«sivelv 
rigid ortluxloxy which, had it existed, would have renderwl 
a great deal of (ireek sj)eculation im]M)ssible. Thirdiv, we 
find even in the l)eginnings of (Jreek philosophy a dignitv 
and a rejiose whicli are very striking. There is no tnu-e 
of cringing before the majesty of nature, or of fear at itjt 
various manifestations. The (ireek philosopher was not 
afraid to look, nor afraid of what he saw. He w.-»s quit** 
readv to think and to be " at jieace as to the results of his 

Mr. Fairlvuiks has given us an unpretentious but 
useful contribution to the literature of the subject. 

It hiui [he 8»y» in lijs pn-fiicn] be»'t> my p)»n (■<> |>r«"f>nro for 
thu student a Orevk text of the ' .i)y 

philosophers which sliall represent n ;|ie 

results of recent scholarship, mi'  a« 

may be necessjirj- to eimhle the ; ho 

textiest«. >■•■■••••'" t.'Xtlhiiv. ,,, iho 

fragments ii:t . and aii.- of the 

important piis: _ . .lingont! •■ -^nd 

Anstotle, and in the < ireek dosi !s, 

in order that the student of c c ^ _ ..jvo 

hefore him in compact form practii-ally ail the materials on 
which the history of this thought is to be Utsud. 




[Aupftist 6, 1898. 

He has also added as an a])|iendix a scholarly discussion of 

tl' 'lie of the various traditional sources from 

»■ of niir knowI('»l;;e of tliis ])rimitive jieriod 

R^ I'd. His translations are clear and 

iKi... ^. ...I ... y are hardly of the highest order. 

We f;ive Ids rendering of a i>art of the Introduction to 
I'annenides' j>oem on Nature : — 

Tf ftftiutiv ' rg lip /li roXv^pairroi f/pot> irrot 
Sf^fin riraivovtrai ' Kovpat {' Mbv tfyt^dvtvov. 
d(wv t'iv x>'oip<r<i' Ml av/HYyof aiir^v 
(It fdot, iiadfuvai Kpariiv dro x<^' *<iXuirrf>at. 
SvOa vvXai vvKTit n nai t/^ards <in niXti'ifiuii-, 
kid •faf vriffivfiov ififit ex(i koi Xdtfot o^^ui, 
aiml t' oiO/fKni rXr/vrai M<7<iXo«n BvptT/mf. 
riv fi Aioif Tt>Xu»o<vot tjf" ii'Xi)Jo<« ifioifiovt, 
Ttiv ct'i rap^fifvai koifHti /laXakoioi \^oimv 
wutrav iriffia^tuiSf &s ffftv /SaXavwroF oxija 
drr#p/wi tu9ttt irvX^wv dxo . roi ii Ovpirptov 
X<iffM axnwt Tw'ijffav dfarrd^frii, toXu^'^^**"'^ 
d£oft»aT (I* trvfityliv a^oi^a?uv (iMBaaai, 
y6tAfoit kai irff>j|'|f<rii' aptipjri ' rg pa ii aliruv 
iOit ixo" '^ovpai Ka9' atiaiiriv upua *ai irirovt. 

Along this roiut 1 was Ixtriio, along this the horses, wiso 
inilMMl, boro mo hanttoiin^ tho chariot on, and maidoiis guidud 
my conrso. The axle in its lx)X, onkinillu<l by tho hojit, uttenKl 
tho Hound of a pipe (for it was driven on by the rolling wheelK 
«m either side), when the maiden daughters of Helios hastened 
to coniluot nie to the light, leaving the realniK of night, pushing 
asiile with the hand the veils from their heails. Tliere is the 
pite K'tween tho ways of day and night ; lintel above it, and 
stone threshold btmeath, hold it in high place, and high in air it 
is fitt^l with great dimrs; retributive justice holds tlie keys that 
open and shut them. However, tho maidens addressed her with 
mild words, and found means to ptTsuade her to thrust back 
sii©«lily for them tho fastened bolt from the doors : and the gate 
swinging free ma<lu the opt-ning wide, turning in their K<(eket8 
tho bronxu hinges, well fastunod with bolts and nails ; then 
through this tho maidens kept horsos and chariot straight on tho 
high road. 

It is a pity that Mr. F.iirbanks ha.s not gone further 
and given us a good account of this early age of pliili>- 
Hophy. Even his notices of the autliors themselves are 
very scrappy. The jwlitical life of Zeiio, the legendary 
glorii*s of Pythagoras and Kini)edocles, tlie persecution 
of Anaxagora-s — these are worthy of something more than 
liare mention; while for the general characteristics oi 
these dawningg of thought Mr. Fairbanks leaves us to 
Zeller ("who is admirable but very long) or to some other 
philosophical hi^^torian. But, though incomplete, the 
book will fill up the particular gaji to which the 
author draws attention, and philosojihical stiuleiiis will 
be grateful to him for it. 


Ireland, happy in the continiiane« of jirosperous years, in a 
prolongod *' close time for landlonls," hayipinr still in tho pro- 
spect of local government and eoimty councils (which, as wo all 
know, are the he;  le golden agei, has surely lost its right 

to the epithet " ' ." And there can 1)0 little doubt ns 

to the lanil which most deecrves tho title. The story of Cika 
Past axd Prrskxt tf>ld by Mr. Richard Dnvey (Chapman and 
Hall, 12s.) surely make* one of the saddest of chapters, and, 
gloomy as the i>ast has been, one cannot help feeling that the 
future may bo still gloomier. The island is one of the wonder- 
hooaea of nature ; nothing on tho earth can \>v much stranger 
than tho CnVian forost, as Mr. Davey describes it : — 

Now Slid sgiiio tha patatnn i* harrol liy the rnpc-liko )irAn<'hc'S of 
SOBS anrsmr rTr>-p«r thnt mino prmrinK down from sliove like ttie 
tanf(led r  hip. You <lr«w hack in sUrm lest th<- 

stranc* '. come to life and turn into a chain of 

»agrj *er}ieuts. I'd yu ic .•urpri»e you p<?rcei»o one siilo of it to 1« 
literally blaxiDg with flame-coloured orchid*, red and orange. lu the 

centre of jondcr little open apace ia a dead tree that somo huge parahite 
baa atizod upon, dracgrd out of earth and imprisoned in a woody cage, 
e%'ery Imr of which is tnpestried with tho mo»t exiiuisite orchidN. Yonder 
growth, which reaches far al>ove your knurs, cousista of the eieat whiel- 
shsped mairii n-hnir fein. wliiiite fronds are so exiitiisitp and so lirittle 
that you feid roincrse at trampling so tender and delicate a carpet under 
foot. Presently you find yourself ascending a rocky eminence, crowned 
l>y half-a-do«en noaring caUiago puhni, ami thenoe you plunge into n 
shnihliery where the extpiisite TaWrnao montana or the reBpInident 
Oalycophyllum lills thu hot moist air with an overpowering perfume, 
reealling that of our homidy syringa. . . . The impulse to push forward 
and discover new wonders and lieautlea for yourself is swiftly checked 
by your guide, who warns you that as the sun l)egins to drop noxious 
vapours will rise — vapours charged With deadly levers and incuralilu 

Tho forest may !» taken as a symbol of Cuban life, gay, 
gorgeous, highly-coloured, but grievously aftlictod with " deadly 
fevers and incurable agues." At jiresunt the world is looking 
at thu i>atieiit in his hut tit, and one imagines that tho shiver 
cannot Ixi far off. 

Mr. Davey's notes, a series of picturesque and interesting 
ol>servations, refer, it would seem, to somo years ago, antl there 
are only incidental references to tho present rebellion an<l tho 
Spanish-American war. Hut one need not l<e much afflictod by 
tho absence of battles and bombardments, of which we have ha<l 
a sutlieioncy in the newspapers for four months past. Spain has 
sent descriptions of " great Spanish victories "-- which resulUil 
in the total destruction of the Spanish ships ; Anicrii-a, not 
content with shelling thi' Cuban forts, has shelled the world with 
imaginary tales of ruin and destruction. Hut the nml problem 
remains unsolved, remains as it was when >Ir. Davey visitwl tho 
island, as it was a hundred years ago. Cuba, evorylMxly is ex- 
claiming, has l>oen grossly misgovorno<l by tho homo authorities ; 
the island and tho people are ruined by tho evil ways of Spain. 
Expel tho captnin-gonoral and his minions and all will lie for tho 
Is^st in tho l>est of tropical islands. Tho cry is popular, tho 
remcdj' is simijlo enough ; and it seems unkin<1 to prophesy for 
Cidia the i)ros|Kirity, say, of Holivia, Nicaragua, or Argentina, of 
any South American Uepublic of mixed raco governed by revolu- 
tion, corruption, and iH<riodical repudiation. And yet the 
jiroiihocy is safe. It is true that Culm has In-en misgovornod, 
but what countiy has not Ixjen misgovornod ? Mr. Kodley has 
instructed us as to the misgovernnient of prosjierous France ; 
every one knows the meaning of " ]>olitician " in tho United 
States, where the whole machine of state is notoriously an affair 
of brilxiry and blackmail ; and yet l>oth Frenchmen ami 
Americans contrive to o.\ist and to do well on the earth. Hut 
the Spaniards, it is said, are revoltingly cruel. It is iwssiblo ; 
but Olio has heanl tales of lynching, of burning negroes at tho 
stake from lands that are not Spanish, and it must be 
reniend)ered that as the Culian jungle is luxuriant in vegetation 
so the mass of Cubans aro luxuriant in violence a"d crime. One 
cAniiot )>orsua<]e a peojile addicted to \'u<lu and Obi and all tho 
foulest and most cruel rites of West Africa by tho bland methods 
of Utopia. The truth is surely this : that while tho Spaniard 
has exhibited a plontifid lack of tho cajiacity for government, 
the Cuban lacks ofpially the ca])a<'ity for Isnng governed ; and in 
a civiliz(Hl sUito the latter quality is more iin[>ortai)t than tho 
former. It is from the character of a ])coplo that good and 
settled government proceeds, and one might as well expec^t to see 
the ills of Cnlia cured by " outonomy," " independence," 
" universal suffrage," or any or all of such roniodies, as to look 
for a fruitful and glorious growth from one of those Culian 
orchids transplanted into an Knglish hedgerow. 


La DuchsBse de Duras. Hv A. Bardoux. ti oUn., 
•«;}(ipp. I'aiis, lHit8. Calmann Ldvy. Fr.7.60 

The Senate of tho Third Republic does not compare un- 
favourably, in the number of distinguished writers that it 
containa, with the Senate of Napoluou HI., even with Augior 


Au<,nist C>, 1898.] 



ind Sainte-IViiivu as moiiilHtrs. Tho lato M. Itarilniix wai one of 
[those Fronch |>oIiticiniiH who ilivido tlioir tinio l>ot»ron tho 
JBoimto and thu Iiistitiito In IiIh lifu ho know but two pikHsiniis 
I — thu H«iiulplic and l')intoaid>riHiid ; and to the httt«r lie dcvott'tl 
[•onie most intori'stiu); books, tho " DuchcsNo do Dtirns " boin;; 
[the huit of a sorioM in which " La Conit^^-sHo Paulino do licaii- 
|lnont " and " Mnio. do Ciistino " had already won for tlioir 
l«iithor an onviahlu litorary ru|mt<iti<iii. 

Tho Diirhosso do Diiras was tho daii){lit«'r uf Vico-Admirul 
Korsaiiit, one of thoso soamcn of tho old li'jiine who, witliGrasso 
and d'KHtain^; and .Sud'ron, shod a few rays of Kl"''y °^"^ *''" 
roinn of Louis XVI. At twonty-four ho hail unpturod an Kn^^lish 
frif^ate otf I'shant ; for fivo yoars ho had commandod in tho 
Wrst Indios during tho Ainorioau War of Indoiiondenco. Whoii 
the Hi'volution broke out ho oa;»orly ospousod the now causo, 
liko all who had eoiilribiitod to found tho American He|mblic. 
His activity was prodi^jious ; he drew iiii a soheino of naval 
rofoniis, skotchi'd the plan of a constitution, and wrote vorses 
and novels which fortuliat<>ly wore never published. At ono 
time, so ho rocuidcd, " ho dreamed of playing tho part of 
Hampdon." Kloctod a Deputy to tho Convontion, ho rofuscid 
to vote tho death-sentence of tho King, and thereby di>cidod his 
own fate. A few months later ho was tried by the Comite do 
Salut Public, found guilty of " having helixid to give up Toulon 
to the Knglish," and — guillotined. 

Mile, do Kersaint took refuge in America and then in 
liondon, whore sho lived in tho society of tlitt eiiiii/n». Later 
on in life, in the " Meiiioires do Sophie," she gave some inter- 
esting details on tho hardships which the most illustrious 
faniilii's in Kraiice hail t<> undergo in foreign lands. 'With 
Napoleon camo a change. The emiyrf.i wore jjormitted to return. 
The Duchesse do Duras settled at Ussi^, near Tours. Thou began 
that correspondence with Chatt-nubriand to which there is hardly 
a |iarallel in literature. She had met the famous niniauticist at 
the Ducht^sse do Moiichy's at Me'ri'villo, where she heard him 
read to an enrapture<l audience t)f Hoyalists " Lo Dernier des 
Al)oncerage8 " and the volume of the " Itim'rairo." Hence- 
forth her life was ono of devotion to him. Not only did she 
take the liveliest interest in his |iolitieal career when, at the fall 
of Napoleon, her husband, the Due do Duras, was given the 
highest places at tho Court of Louis XVIII., liiit sho hmked 
after his money alfairs, which wore always embarrassod. She 
playeil the lole of a mother with a prodigal son. When he is 
Ambassador in London, astonishing George IV. by his display 
of luxury, .she thus chides him :-- 

Je TOILS reoomiiisnde I'tronoinie. X'.illezpaii itre comme le Savditr 
et croiie que vous avez tout 1 'argent que Dit-u cii-a, jjarce cjue voiis 
touchez viiigt iiiille hvres stnliiig. Vous en veriez bientiM la fin. Mettez 
H celn (lu caractere ! Ne lais807. pas un seul ni^nioii-e en ari-iere I 
iSoiivenez-vous combien vous avez etc loiigteiniis malheuieux 1 

Chateaubriand stood sadly in need of such advice. He was 
a true Breton — ambitious, but improvident, and, although 
tenacious, easily di.shoartened. He himself once wrote : — 
" There is in my character, together with something strong, 
something weak." He had, moreover, tho faults of bis qualities, 
or perhaps better of his litorary talents : a feminine sensitive- 
ness, pride, sollishness. In Berlin, rummaging amid the archives 
of the Kmbassy, he discovers a few notes on him.self not to his 
niinil sulliciontly laudatory. Straightway ho wTitos off t<.) Mine, 
do Duras ;— -" If you only knew what they have been saying 
about me in tho privacy of the Cabinet I Never have there been 
guiltier men than those who for the last live years have lieen 
making the destinies of Franco." 

Mine, do Duras comes out scatheless from M. Bardoux's 
book. She is a true heroine, tender, constant, and infinitely 
graceful ami witty. Although she wrote novels, now long for- 
gotten, she had nothing of the traditional bas-bleu, and she once 
paid Chateaubriand a ravishing compliment which throws us 
back into tho eighteenth centurj-. " I have stopped," she wrote 
to him in London, " all the clocks in my not to hear them 
strike tho hour when you will come no more." The liook closes 
with tho triumph of Chateaubriand, appointed Minister of 

Foreign Affaira after on !ntri?in« whi<?h is not t^ his 

cn^lit. Louis XVIII 1 f.> 

say : — " Beware of adu i; ill 

s|Kiil evurytliing. Such iH?ople are goo<l for nothing." According 
to M. Bardoux, this wns merely the exfiression of tho familiar 
prejudice of jioliticians against men of letters, Yut it ii difUciilt 
not to ailmit that tho shrewd King vean in the right. Such men 
as Chat<-aiibrinnd, or even M. Bardoux, his admirer, R««>tn liettxr 
tltt4-d to Imi Ministt^rs of Kdiioatioii than Secretaries for Foreign 

'loodle Papers, 

il InlriHliu't ion 



Memoirs of Barry Lyndon, tl; r 
Sec. Hy W. M. Thackeray. Wiihi 
by bl.s il.iugbi.r, Anno Ritchie. . 
Ixiiidon, 1S!)S. Smith, Elder. 

When Mrs. Uitehie was a girl, Thackeray said to hor, 
"You nee<ln't read "Barry Lyndon,' you won't like it"; 
and, as she remarks, " indeed it is scarcely a book to like." 
Yet, undoubtedly, it ranks among its author's few great 
works, only a little below tho greatest. Its despicable hero, for 
whom we are tentpto<l to exhauat tlio dictionary in terms of 
abuse, is a thoroughly living, full-bloo<led scamp, and is mode 
to betray himself by the ingeniously simple metho<I of a frank 
and arrantly boastful autobiography. The character is sustaimxl, 
with masterly vigotu', over nearly three hundreil pages ; and 
the story moves on, through one scene of discreditable adventure 
after anotlior, without a moment's ))ause or any of 
interest. It misses supreme e.xcellence, undoubt<-4lly, by the 
unrelieved nature of tho ugly incidents, and a certain hanlness 
of ti^ine, which is so eminently artificial in Thackeray. We see 
from his diaries and letters here quote<l that it was written 
'' with cxtroine difliculty," and it reads to some extent like a 
tour lie. force. As such it must bo reckoned extraordinarily 

The furiously cynical "Catherine," composed "for tlie 
public whom its literary providers have gorge<l with blood and 
foul Newgate garl>age," suffers from the same limitations, though 
perhaps they may be forgiven in a short story with a stem moral 
purpose. "Tho Fitzlxxxlle Pajwrs " and "Men's Wives" 
abound in clever scenes and telling descriptions, but they lack 
tho strong human interest of his longer novels. "The Second 
Funeral of Napoleon " cannot be included in the same group, 
and is comically linked with the " very early design of the Battle 
of Jena," given in the introduction, hy "the little boy who once 
IHjeped at the great prisoner on his lonely rock." 

Mrs. Kitchio says of hor notes to the volume : — " la this a 
preface to ' Barry Lyndon * and ' The Second Funeral of 
Napoleon ' ? It will do as well as any other to show how ami 
under what diOiculties the b<M)ks of this time were written I " 
It is lille<l indeed, for the most part, with reminiscences of 
her own childhootl, including the charming picture alphabet, in 
which only six letters were ever complet«Hl, designe<l to teach her 
to read ; and portraits — of old John ' ' in his funny knee-breeches, ' ' 
" Mother and Child," " Father and Little Girl." There are, as 
usual, a few charming letters to his mother, Fitzgerald, and other 
friends. We are told, moreover, that tho story of Barry Ljiidon's 
marriage is taken from the extraordinary history of ono member 
of the old " B«)wes " family, while Thackeray read the " episode 
of Duke Victor and his Duchess " in " a silly book called 
' L'F.mpire, ou Dix Ans Sous ^ " Catherine 

Hayes was also a real jx-rson, and the :. . , "^ supplied some 
details of her history. Curiously enough, a popular Irish singer 
of the same name was living when the book appeare<l, ami her 
admirers floo<le<l Thackeray with persistent and heate<l abuse for 
his supposed libel. It was probably, however, the allusion 
(afterwartis suppressed) in " Pendennis " to tha notorious 
Catherine which brought the excitable Mr. Briggs over to 
England, where he took lodgings in Young-street, oppnsit« the 
novelist's house, with the full intention of thra- 
Mrs. Bitftliie tells of tho arrival of a good-huiuour<. . .e 



[August G, 1898. 

•imI oUmt pr«|)«r»tiuna for (Wfonof, until bar f»tlier, fealiug 
that "tb* litiiation WM bwnni: mw aixl uiil»»rable." 

qiiMtif walktxl •croM th» atrcM : . hi« «<lvi>rsarjr"« room 

unumoonead,  on th x l hia rifihtmoia imiitmation after ton 
luinatas' eoavanatioD, awI Iton^ht " an old c'hi|iponcUl» chair 
from til* lutlcing-hoiia* woBian, in which he Htt for many yoara." 

W» hmif alao reoeirerf • dainty little reprint of RioioNn in 

rk_.-  ..Temple CUaaicn " (Hent. :<a. n.). Tbia 

'i the preao by Mr. \V«lt«'r .lerrold, who lias 

ami tlie acr .: notes." It ia 

i got up, likral' ~lierN° pro<luctiunii, 

in is not particularly miuable to Thackeray, 

 it ti\f air of a " school closaic." 


Hamlet in Iceland. Boin^ tht> Irolnndic Ronmntic 
AnihaloM Ka|r». Ktlittsl iiikI Tiaii^LittHl . . ., with an Inti-o- 
(liutory (la-iny. by Israel OoUancz. 8i xOJin., xcviii. + a*» pp. 
Li>n«lon, l."**. Nutt. 15/- 

Mr. nollancs baa niaintaine<I his lii^h reputation aa a 
ScaiHlinarian scholar by this excellent e<lition of th>> Icelandic 
Ka((a of AinNila.i : but, when all is said, we very much doubt 
whether the thing itself was really worth the care an<l trouble ho 
ha' "11 it. Tho so-called Sa};a is a vt>ry modern produc- 

tioi ■.;; to tlte ^ixteontli, or |>erha|>8 early sevinteonth, 

oerr led of MUc-b liotoroKeneous in);redionts 

aa ii ise<l folk-lore, and the swpopin^s of 

the Cha i huiI Arthurian cycles of romance, the rexult 

)«ini{ a  L . and confusing' juinble of aimless a<Ivontiiros 

and monstrous exploits, with neither the interest of history nor 
oven tho charm of ffood romance to recommend it. Yet, though 
utterly valueleas as literature, the " Ambales Saga " has, at 
least, one point of interest— its relationship to the story of 
Hamlet : ami this relationship, very slight and distant as it is, 
is M ' .n for now presenting tho story in 

an I -t time. We may say at once, how- 

ever, tli.i "11 of the Saga (mostly lK)rnjwod from 

Saxo Gr.. • •• • ') lectly with tho story of Hamlet, and 

that too has been B|)oilt in the telling. Kow Saxo's Hamlet has 
no fewer than seven strong and striking |Kiints of rusemlilance to 
the Hamlet of Shakespeare, whereas the Hamlet of the "Amtiales 
Sa^ta " seems to ur to lie primarily our old familiar friend the 
st«ipid yoiincer »on of folk-lore in general, " Cindorer," as ho is 
usually' ' i-idiot whose latent, often sui)eniatiiral, 

reeourx-i t to shame the wisdom and tho courngo 

of thoao hIi' 1 bis Iwtters. This point (and wo 

conceive it t.  i il ) s<'ems to have e8cn]x.<l tho atten- 

tion of Mr. (iollancE. in short, the Hamlet of the Saga is tho 
victim of the s|«lls of a witch, and his tennioniry mentnl ecli|ise 
ia therefore not feigned, liiit real, altlioiigh tho innate super- 
hnman force witliin liim constantly triumphs over tlio sorceress' 
cnraa. If we add tiiat Amtiales is com|iaratively indiH'ereiit to the 
roardar • ' ' '' nkes no dir(>ct elFort to avenge him ; 

that he i ^ uncle nor an incestuous mother, nor 

a lMI|t.« uroil mistn-ss, the reader will divine at 

wneeth.'' -is Tum-h rp.'ciitMnnfv. lietW(*en Amiiales 

and Hai 'I'liimouth, and no 

more. !• „ of Saxo's Aiuloth 

has crept into or  <l on to Ain)>al«s ('.ff., what wo may 

eall the Poloniiw i; , !•■  •» ;■ no esKciitial jiart of thetale, 

and would not lie missed if . 

In conclusion wo may ami inat tbi- translation of tho 

Icelsn<)ic tnxt is careful and conacientious, diMipite >M-ciiMional 

ncoentricitiea of expn-asion, as, fw iimtaiio-. •' enfiertMl " instead 

at " InereaaMl " (m'l^ni'tlh) ; " nn when a chiM rJifrrt »;» uulo 

■T " insteail of " cuddles '■ or " emliraa-a " 

- hair waa so jfroat," which is not even 

'••, of eonrae. " she luul so much liair " 


Professor Oering. the edit<w of Kyiibvqoja Saga (Hallo, 
Niemcyor, 8i: <>ne of the leading Icelandic scholars of 

the day. Hi li version of the Songs of the KUler Kilda 

is, in tho jiulginent of ex|MTts, the best oxtiint, while bis Edda 
Glossary can even bo place<l by tho side of tho great lexicons of 
Cloasby and Frit«nor. This edition of the " " Eyrliyggja Saga " 
allonls ample «co|ic for his critical amnion. " The St«)ry of thti 
Ere-Dwellers,*' to give tho Saga its happiest English title, is 
one of the most iiitei-esting monuments of olil Noi-«e Literature 
and belcngs to its classical period. It iimy lack, iiulec><l, tho 
epic iiroadth and gniiideiir of the famous < llnf Tryggvnson Saga : 
it contains no such touching and drnmatic episode as tho 
account, in the " Foreyiiiga Suga," of tho famous and fatal 
swim of Sigmiiiid lirestison from Scufoy to Southray ; and tho 
narrative is somewhat ill-constructed. Yet it has always Ix-en a 
prime favourite, both in and out of Iceland, and no wonder, 
when we call to mind the vigour ond purity of its style, the 
vividness of its descriptions, the skill of its dialogues, and, 
aijovo all, its masterly characterization. !*ui'h personages as the 
great " law-man " Ariikel, his rival the slender, " straight- 
faced," yollow-haiied Snorri, the adroit and grimly-humorous 
roblior I's]iak, the evil-mindiHl Thorolf Hnltfoot, mischievous in 
life, but terrible after death, and the women, Thurid, " so fain 
of glitter and show," tho witch K.itlii, Thorgund, " the durk- 
browed, narrow-eye<l " woman from tho southern isles- -all these 
personiigos stand out as real and life-like after the lapse of six 
centuries aa if they were but of yesterday. Moreover, wo cannot 
bat feel an especial interest in a Saga which Walter Scott warmly 
commended and William Morris has converte<l into an English 

But the " Kj-rbj-ggja Saga " is more than a literary master- 
piece ; it is one of the most trustworthy of old Norse historical 
documents. Its chronology- has licoii subjcctwl to the most severe 
critical tests, and, with one trivial exception, bos proved to be 
unifomdy accurate ; its allusions to contemi'iorury events else- 
where have been mostly verified, and it adds very greatly to our 
knowIe<ige of local topography, genealogy, manners and customs, 
besides containing brief allusions to the discovery of Green- 
land and tho christianizing of Iceland. Its authorship and 
approximate age, however, are questions which still divic'e 
scholars. 1'rofes.sor Magniisson, five years ago, sought to e.^ta- 
blish the hypothesis that Abbot Hall, of Helgafcll, was tho 
author of the " Eyrbj-ggju Saga," and ho " saw no objections at 
all in the way of the Saga's having lieon written during the |ioriod 
of Hall's abliotsbip (>.r., liOO-l'JOO)." I'rofessor Blagnilsson's 
argument is ingenious enough ; but. depending, as it practically 
does, on the exact interpretation of the single word " inn " in 
a imrticular passage, it seems to us extreieely Imjuirdons. Pro- 
fes-sor (loriiig, on tho other hand, arguing on broader, historical 
grounds, p'ist<lates tho Saga half a century or more, and strongly 
doubts whether tho author was tho Alibot of Helgafell, or, 
indeo<l, a monk at all. 

A new e<Iition of tho Faibv Talks pbom tor Far North, 
by P. C. Asbjornson, translated from tho Norwegian by H. L. 
Drn-kstad (Nutt, tfs.), which are to Scandinavia what the 
Grimms' great collection is to Germany, was much waiiti'd. and 
no pains have Im-oii spared to make the volume oh attractive as 
]io8sible. Mr. itriekstnd, moreover, is a careful and conscien- 
tious translator ; iiidee<1, ho is sometimes painfully literal, and, 
though moru correct, on tho whole, than Sir George Dasont, is 
far less spirite<l and convincing. Dosont's two versions of those 
*' Norske Folk-Eventyr '' have never yet Ixh^ii HurimsNed, ond it 
is surprising that they have not lieon reprinted. Although be 
made mistakes, liis English wa.ii always vigorous and picttircMpie. 
He would never, to take but one instance, have translat<'d 
" skuldo ban iiok botale tiruvollet " by " be would ]iuy all 
funeral ex|N<iiHes," as Mr. Ilriekstad has done, ami anybody who 
takes the trouble to compare his rendering of " Fiilgesvendun " 
with .Mr. Br II 'k stud's will lie struck by the vast superiority of tho 
older vorsiiin. This same story, moreover, inevitably invites a 
I'oinpariMoii u itli Ha!i« Aiidi'T*.! n's f;iniou« '* Tbi- I'lavellin^' Com- 

Aujfiist (',, 1898.] 



prniion," of which it ia obviously the original. Pnrlutpn noUiiiit; 
<iiinl>le* oii(> to realixo ■<> vividly the rimrvri .-n't 

);uiiiii* iiH tliii iimiiiinr ill wliit'li lie linH con^ .'4k- 

tnU' into II (.'onHiiiiiiimto llti'iary miiiiUjipim-o, iinil tliiit, tt>o, 
witlioiit tliu luiut injury to itn orl^jiniil Iniiiioiir niiil imivctt', 
olutliin;; its dry liniion, an it worv, in all tlio «|>lend(iiir of hiH 
fanctv. iiMil I lliij; a vuritiniilitiidu to ita vory aUniilitii^it. 


Of tllO Iimkilll,' of books by Kllgli^nuiin uimin .'imiM. :i tiirro 

il no ond. N'uvurtlioloss, thuro ii room and to s^iare yot for thi- diva- 
pitiong of llio ivd(><|\iutoly-ui|iiip|'ed writi^ron sport in tlio t'liitod 
Htiit»i8, for tlio goiMnl oconomiKt, tho polili(.'iil ooononiJHt, and 
other rariotiuK of tlie ob.sorvaiit travollor. Jtiit the jiuripatotiu 
hiiniourigt, tho puraiiiluilant |M!MiriiiHt, the irresponaildo usRiiyist 
—Midi, after all, it is by tlmir di-ud.i wi> know thoin ; ami if any 
brinjf us broad, it would certainly bo unsot-iiily to rulin(|uiNh the 
jiitt on tho foiojronii conclusion that it prove yet another 
stone to add to tho already ap|iallin^' cairn of the futile and the 
unwanted. Now tho Hon. Martin Morris, who gives us 
TiiA.NS.iTi.Axric TuAlT.i (Stock, Gs. ), is not of those who have 
writUui about our Transatlantic kindro<l out of tliu mere wanton- 
ness of that t,'rowiii^' and uiidcsiiable class, the ojjjoti.stical 
uniMiiployed. Mr. Morris is a .student of books as well as of 
men, and of tiio natural history of races as well as of 
indiviiluals ; he has already proved hiiiiHulf, in " Life's Greatest 
Possiliility"'C'Aii K.ssay in Spiritual Uealisni "), an iiidoiiendont 
thinker and an unatl'ecteilly i-lianiiiii;; writer ; he is a di.Hciple of 
Rinerson and admirer of \\'-dt Whitman ; ho is ever discreet in 
his vivacity, and sober in his judf^ments- is, in a word, a philo- 
sopher with a bent for writinK, a genial man of the world, and 
an Irishman. 

S.inie portion of his book has apppared already. Of the five 
sections, tho two entitled " At Sea " and " American Traits" 
attracted scuie attention when published severally in tho 
yiii'liiiith Critttii II and the Xiti- Ilrvieir. There is " a deal o' 
padding ' in Mr. Morris' little Ixiok ; but then there is jiadding 
and puddinf,', and porlmps the pleasiantest readin;; in '• Trans- 
atlantic Traits" is thnt major portion of the volume wherein 
the author discourses, with the chatty ease of a Leigh Hunt with 
a philosophic mind and an Kmeraonian bent, upon " Fluid and 
Aerial Envelopments " and uixin " Traits in General." Tho 
volume would be a delightful one to dip into on a tine afternoon 
when one was on the deck of an Atlantic liner five days out ; a 
pleasant one to recur to aftor the Transatlantic trip was a thing 
of the It is suggestive, entertaining, oft<>n acute, some- 
times subtle, ami often pregnant with keen analysis. One can 
at once see, however, how the book has offended some 
Americans, for though it is a sympathetic, and sometimes 
a flattering ti«tiniouy on the [lart of an honestly-interested 
visitor, it happens to contain several a.ssertions which, detivched 

from their context, are apt to affront. Such, for example, are 

" The jxioplo are a race of Cosmopolitan quadroons " ; " Com- 
pared to a John Bull, a Yankee is a .Tackanajies of a man." 
However, the dealer in epigrammatic s|w>ocli roust e.X|M>ct to have 
some of his specimens carried away for illegal use by 
unscrupulous jwrsons ; and doubtless Mr. Morris is well content 
with the good reception his book has already ha«l on both sides 
of the Atlantic. 

Mr. David Christie Murray, the author of The Cockxev 
Colv.mhis (Downey, (»s.), includes not only America but 
Australia in his survey, and finds similarities lietween tho two. 
Ho tells a pleasant story "f •' ;iii Auatraliau-lHirn " who visitotl 
the home country : — 

An old frienil of hi.s father's wa.n hi.< cicerone in London, and took 
him, amongst other places, to. Westminster .\l)liey. And-" There, my 
younK friend," said tho Engbshman, when they had explored the noUe 
old boil. ling, " you have nothing like that in An.otralia. " " My word," 
said the colonial export. '• no fear : Vou should just sec the Scotch 
Church at liallarat '." 

The Mu^' . ,|a 

book ' .Mr. Murray « i >Ui 

to Aniei I, and in < ich < imU 

the nanui ■tronuiy-markiwl chni an iiitviuM* " \mrtf 

chialiam " oouphni with a m.. :', ,,,1. r ,iit,.,.„|, 

Mr. Murray ia by no ni. < iq 

the contrary, he ia an 1 1, >,,...,, ,.^. ,«( 

ontlnwiaain, with h(>{ieii and «x|« I a 

vast dominion for the Knglish witim, .lr. 

(iilroy. the mayor of Now V.irk. who i ■...f 

in«|- .„, 

wit; oa 

of railway wuro ira 

proud of their . -ervice, oi , ., , "'•- 

cars, but the unlortiinati^ " Columbua " mhimi* to bare uiulurod 
the extreme of discomfort from tho atmosphore and the arrance- 
ments, and an oxoom uf incivility from the atteixlant* : — 

The cnr ia • v heatrd, but aprajr* of cold air are rri-rj- 

where. 'I'bBy n kli-a, they blow iDto my sara. ther •«-mi to 

emulate l<ce<'h'a advauced bairdrcMer, anil " blow dowir lijr 

mai-hinery, Nir. " I enjoy the rombincl a>l<raiit«Kc* uf a jiib 

and a neeille liath. .K third eboiiir.o<l patron of the whit'-a c< jjm • m with 
a sninll ati'p ladder and a |Hde. He inonnta tb" att-i) ladder, aiwl with 
the pole he pokes o]Hn a long, ulinder alide of ... aiHl ia 

gone Iwfore I realiie what he hnn done. In «« y blaat, witli 

a touch of (mwdery anew in it. I rail afK-r tlr  --. • lu.l 

repri'sent to him . . . that thia condition oi 

" Vou ait right then-,' !"■ ui.w.r. •• i ., 

to be ventilated." 

On another (wcasion Mr. iluiiny was mi- <i 

be ** No smokiii' in de diiiin' cyar," and. n- 

lighted cigarette, he had tho plea.siire of ». ••»! 

nicger," who siiiokeil a cigar from end <•• .ry 

to laying tho table. The sin u was tieleatablo, 

and all through the night " i 

Mr. Murray has a p<mhI deal to say of tho curious attitude 
of America to FInglish criticism. According to him, thi> 
critic who is enthusiastic is grectod with cries of " tatfy " (an 
oipiivalent of "gammon "), while di , ' iil 

and contempt ; and much the same n' m 

Australia, where the Knglishman is .- 
country " Hingerland," where the v 

garde<l as mere amenities, t .y 

resented as a ridiculous ai wr. 

.Murray's picture of the I'nitoil States and of Auatralia is not 
altogether a pleasing one. lint is the pictiiK' tmo y Ii ■< imo, 
no doubt, in a certain ; tho author I. d 

certain osiiects of life which arrested his i,u.i,ie... i.m; f it 
ijuite fair to leave the other as|)oct« out of the acconnt '/ An 
American might travel froui Liverivisd to M ' " ' a 

visit to liirmingliam, and ilescribo the loai v 

of liermondsey. and outline the 
and add an impression of Ham|>st> 

but we should lit« sorry to acce|>t such a n*»inl tut a iaithiid 
representation of England. \V« know that ther«> are many 
jieaceful places in the States, where the l>anging of big bells anil 
the trembling of tho electric summons never disturb the <|uiet, 
and there must be [H>aceful lives also, spent beyomi the rea<-h of 
the " cyars '" and the " L '" railway— lives in which tradition 
and ciilturo and pleasant memories count for more than the 
hurry and bustle and uproar of New York and Chicago. 

From the title of Oitiivks iv I,o<- m Cr-ioi r < Hnrper. 
81.50), written by an ^ 
reader will exjiect t<> • 
American traits. But tl 
might l>etransferre<) from 

out any violation of dramatic propriety. Mr. Ili 
lias an agreeable, easy style, a facility for tlu- v.,, 
sentiment of a light rippling kind, and a preference ; 
that are wholesome and attractive. These areqiiaht: - n ; !i 
may be turned to pleasing account by a dexterous i[..i: i. ai ; 
and in bright little love 8t'>ri< le for the in. '^- f 

drawing rooms, such a« "A :oo<l in Br.aU. i 



[Anjjust fi, 18D8. 

"A Wall Streat Wooing." th« writer't talonts aro Men to 
•dvmntef*. When, howvrpr, Mr. Itrnndor Muttlipw* attotipt* 
a dp:'i«-i iiot». a« in " A l/ftt«>r of Farowdl," lu' onmys 
aril that an> )>«>ri>n<l lii« flight. Hy far the Iwiit pit>ro 

in tl. - .- a <le»crir"'-"- ''--"'i anil aincere <>nough to give 

the impTMsion of a r^n .■<>, of a night 8i<ent in iino of 

the great |<ark* oi° Nvw ^ >'rk ly a i>ciini'om young man, whoso 
hunger aii.i emotion*, half of fear, half of novel excitement, are 
eoariitcingly and <lf licately (lra«-n. T' lit vigil he 

ooiuaa arron another oi-rupant of < )<«>nc)ies an 

•ld*rly woman, *• wh" had once heen vi-rN •■,'' aiul 

 hue* BMnners and (iwpch, neither harsh, nor <- r t>oKI. 

^•k daahad with a sort of jovial ]iliil«sophy, sot the young man 
wondaring why she is out therv nlt>ni>, without money, in the 
streets. Of this strange, perplexing figure we only got a 
fleeting glimpse : and it is a testimony to Uie art shown in this 
little bit of impressionism— worth for its reality all the rest of 
the stories | 'it— that the ri-a<lor liniU himself asking, 

withMcDoa. vk'hat was the life history of this oldorly 

woman with tho gn^xUxl hair, who was (looping amongst the 
oateasta of the park. Hnt slie would havo awakeiiMl no more 
and DO leaa interest if she had come out of tho darkness near 
the Marble Arch in Hyde Park, for whatever travellorN may 
find to say about American traits or al>out English traits, there 
ii for tli.,iu» u1.., I, r.,1... )...l.nv tho surface, down to the bedrock 
of ' le amount of uniformity among 

Koijii.iii-ii^ii-aKiii^ iiuK itni'iiioron tliis side of the Atlantic or 
Um> other. 


The History of Greece. Adolph Holm. Vol. I\'. 
Tran>late<l t>y F. ('Inrkc. S'. .'.'in.. \iii. (MI pp. lyondnn and 
New York, isw. Macmillan. 7 6 n. 

\f1oIph Holm's " Hist.rv"! <,roce, ' we believe, a))peared 
l:, <"rman between IKSt; mill lrt!i;{, and tho tninsla- 
oii, tho publication of which lio^an in 1804, is now completed 
with Vol. IV in IftW. Whorens <;rote closo<l with his 
reli! \vr, Holm continues 

th«- ,:_' a jwriod which has 

not ' {uately treated. llicre is grounct for 

Holiii - • c of .Alexandria as a factor in tlio intel- 

lectual activity of the time. " Tlio importance of Alexandria," 
he aayi, " baa been, as we shall soe, generally much over-esti- 
mated." For this reason ho disseuta from the designation 
" Alexandrian period " as from the label " Hellenistic period," 
and prefers to stylo it " Gra-co- Macedonian," or " tho jwriod 
of the Kinjrs of tho Ixjagnc." Tho fact is that much of tho 
h'«t-"ry «'f thi" f^riod h?i« hitherto been allowed t<> fall l>etween 

'• roganled it as falling outside 
s have looked at such a career 
aa that of .Mr .nainly from the point of view of Roman 

expansion in •. Holm has boldly annexed this doubtful 

sphere, this Armenia of the historians. This volume, then, 
covers the Orwco-Mscedonian period, an epoch of nearly SOO 
yaar* (323.90 K.<-.), the |>crioil tif the ditfusion of fireek civiliution, 
praaniting a confusion of historical currents which will Ixtst be 
apfwaeiated by Ktudenta of tlie<;ri.<.k lant'unifeof the tinme |w>ri<Hl, 
•tf '  ' :is 

a pi. „{ 

th^pori- of the 

OnmkaV. _ ...^ Lmce of 

th«» Romans in Uie (iroek worlil (aaO-M«), and the third tho 

revival »f tlio .—..-.h ..« the Kast (14<>-:!0). Tlie notes which 

are affpenilcd • , and deal with certain pointa in 

deta:' - - ..... . ,y ^^ 

t«a ion the 
a fai'l "1 It. ■• It 1 , writ- 
It is true tluit .'u now 
•iinum ii .11 dis- 

aU<lua| to t 

.rian by 

reason of the dilferenoea of view they nave elicited. The merit of 
Holm is that he bus rood voraciously, is careful in conjecture, 
and sane in judgment. Wo express our belief that " Holm's 
Ort<<«co " will U- more and more sttulied at tho VnivorxitioH, 
partly for its intrinsic merits and iwrtly for its projiortions. 
With close study of pro8cril>o«l (iroek texts, perusal of Holm, 
and use of special chapters of Uroto, tho candidate for Oxford 
" Cireats " should be well e<|uippe<l. Mr. C'lurko's translation 
is in every way what a translation should be. 

Tho i>oint so much emphasized by Herbart that tho Oreeks, 
in the childhood of civilization, are jxir rr<-c//f»rc the study of 
childhood, is ajipreciated by many writers. Mr. Church's 
" Stories from Homer " was widely roud by younj; jKxiple ; and 
now Mr. H. A. (iuerlwr, in The Stobv ok thb (iKKKKs (Hoine- 
mann, 3s. 6<1.), covers a large part of (ireek history by niouns of 
l^rsonal anenlotes, tho most attractive feature of history to l)oys 
and girls. Thus children may have their minds informed with 
the lessons of perseverance and patriotism so well taught by 
Greek history, and moreover absorb almost unconsciously much 
of the I)e8t literature of tho world. Onco create the impression 
that history is interesting, ond you have set the young student in 
the right i>ath, which will lead him far towards becoming a 
thinkur. The selection of incidents is judicious, and there is 
littlo in tho Inngiiago that will need tho expliiimtion thut must 
always Iw forthcoming when •' Lamb's Tales from Shakesjieare " 
are being read with a class. The illustrations, the helps to pro- 
nunciation of proper names, and the omission of dates are also 
points which will help to inako this littlo work popular. 


The Book of the Twelve Prophets (E.vpositoi's 
Bible). By Qeorge Adam Smith, D.D., LL.D. Vol. II. 
8x5llin., xii. 4 511 i>p. l/oiuiou, l.siis. 

Hodder Sc Stoughton. 7/6 

Professor G. A. Smith combines almost every qiialificntion 
nee«le<l by an interpreter of the Hobrew prf>phet8. To his 
Hebrew lenrning and critical insight he adds an intimate 
jM-rsonal ac<jiuiintanco with the East, a deep reverence of mind, 
and a true moral sympathy with the writings which he under- 
takes to ex]>oiind. In his first volume Professor G. A. iijniith 
ilealt with a period more familiar to average readers and 
students than thut covered by the soconil, which ombraces the 
development and subsequent decay of Hebrew prophecy. The 
writer, indeed, declares that his volume might lie entitled " The 
Passing of tho Prophet " ; — 

Throughout our nine books [he «»y«] wc see the spirit antl the style 
of tho ria.viir prophecy of Israel ip^dually dissolving into other forms of 
thought sikI feeling. 

In other words, prophecy during this critical epoch loses in 
grout measure its primitive form, and grailuully passes into 
literature of a definitely apocalyptic ty|)o. In his nroface Pro- 
fessor Smith gives a clear and concise summary of the ditforent 
stages in this progress, or, as some might prefer to call it, thia 
descent. Already in Nahiiin and Zephaniah tho ethical element 
which is entirely predominant in tho eighth century prophets 
yields to new influences. Finally in Joel " tho civic and 
])ersonal ethics of the earlier ]>r<iphets " disspix^ar. He calls to 
repentance, " but under the imminence of the Day of the Lord, 
with its suiMirnatui-al terrors, he mentious no special sin and 
enforces no single virtue." To tliu Greek {lericMl (from 1132 h.c. 
onwards) belongs the passage !<ech. ix. xiv., in which prophecy 
is seen " perhajis at its lowest ebb," exhibiting the stern spirit 
pf national vengeance which was roused by Israel's sutforings at 
the hands of " tho heathen." In the Intok of Jonah, the ad- 
mirable treatment of which worthily conclu<lo8 tho present 
volume, tho sun of prophecy beams out anew ; tho lM)ok exhibits 
'' a great recovery and exiiaiision of the liest elements of 

It will 1k> obvious that, as ri'gards jwiiuts of criticism. Pro- 
fessor G. A. Smith agrees in tho main with Dr. Driver and Pro- 

August G, 1898.] 



feMor Oomill. We Tenture to think that the critical diicnii- 
niniiH, co^'oiit anil thoroii^'h an tliey nro, mij^'lit liave Ixion com- 
proitnoil witli ailvaiitn^o in a voliinio iiitoniloil for (joiieriil rooilorii. 
]<ut tlui fiiliiOHN anil fiiirncsN i>f tlioNo iliHcUMiiioiiH imliaiico the 
uontiilunco with wliioh a lay Htinlont will acc(>[>t I'rofoHHur 
Smith'H vorilictM. Tim roailur cannot fail to Im* ini|>rvfi>ioil by tliu 
doliriuty ilinplayoil in tho troatiiunit of critical )ioint«. For 
inntancu, tho in^eniniiH theory of (iunkol that Nahtiia i- ii., 4, 
contains tho roninaiitH of an alphalM>tic jMalm in not act aniilii, 
hut (loclureil to lie " not proven " ; nor, iniluoti, ilooii tho writer 
think it nocoHsary to coinu tu any iluciHion on the qiiotition of 
Nahuni'H prociHu ilato. Tho well-known ililliculty of intfrprota- 
tion raiHoil liy Haliiikkiik i. is treated with fulnuiui ; Imt horu 
a^'ain ProfoHHor Smith wisely ilnclinuH to commit himnolf to any 
very iloflnito concliiNion, thou);h he ^'oo.s no far oa to Hu;^i;eHt that 
BuiIiIo'n view of tho pa.sHa;;e, ptililiHhoil in .SftiiWiVn iiinl Krllikm 
for 1893, in the only one poHsilile in tho pronont state of our 
knowleilge. Thoro are two features of this hook which seem to 
us to ^ive it 8]x>cial value. In the fu-st place, we woulil draw 
attention to the chaptera of general intro<luction : the sketch of 
the seventh century, the description of Israel's condition during; 
the period of Persian domination, and the hrief outline of tho 
so-colled " tireek fHirioil." To ordinary readers nothing; is 
more useful than this kind of " orientation," and the task is 
achieved by Protessor Smith with exceptional aircuracy and skill. 
The following' pa.s,sa^'e is worth ijuotin^ as ft spei-imen of the 
writi'r's historical insight :- 

111 thin iHTiuil |thi' era of I'lTHiun iloiniuntion] Projilwcy ilocs not 
maiiitHin that lofty iMiHitioii wliii-h it bus hitlicrto held in the life of 
iHriirl, tiiid the reasons for its ilerliiie are otiviouK. To bi'fcin with, the 
national life, from wliirli it a^irings, is of a far poorer quality. Israel is 
no bingi'r a kinKilom, Imt a colony. There is virtually no state. 

The cominiinity is |K>or anil frchlc, cut otT from all the habit anil prestige 
of their ]>, and beginniii); the rtiilinents of life again in luiril struggle 
with iiatuii- ami hostile tribes. To this level Piophtvy has to descend 
and oorupy itself with these rudinients. We miss the civic atmosphere, 
the great s])aces of public life, the large ethical issues. Instead, we have 
tearful iiuestions, rai.sed by a grudging soil ami Ind si-asons, with all the 
jiotty sellLshness of hoiigir-bittt'ii pi^asjinls. 'Ilir religious duties of the 
colony are mainly e<vlcsiastical — the building of a temple, the arraiigc- 
nieut of ritual, and the ceremonial discipline of the {leopb- in sejieratiim 
from their heathen neighbours. We miss, too, the clear outlook of the 
earlier prophets upon the history of the worbl, ami their calm, rational 
grasp of its forces. Tlie lurid air of A[)ocaly|ise envelois's the 

future, and in their weakness to grapple, either jmlitically or philo- 
so)ihicaUy, with tin' probb>ni» which history offers, the prophets resort to 
the ex|x'Ctution of physical eatastiophes and of the intervention of 
su)M'matiiral annies. 

One other feature of tho hook may lie mentione<l— viz., the 
writer's skill in applying tho lessons derived from prophecy t» 
the circumstances of the pre.sent day. Hero is an unexpected 
" moral " drawn from the Isiok of Joel : — 

On the whole, tho witness of history is uniform. ... A stable 
basis of prosp<'rity is indis|M'n.«able to every social and religious refonii, 
and (Jod'h Spirit liiids fullest course in commanities iif a certain degree 
of civilization ami of freedom from sordidness. 

It only remains to our lielicf that no more valiialilu con- 
tribution has boon made in recent years to Biblical exo;;osis than 
Professor Smith's present volume. 

The Beginnings of English 
William Edward Collins, M.A. 7; 

Christianity. Hy 

>lin., 210 pp. Ixindon, 

Methuen. 3 6 

Like Dr. Miison's recently pulilisheil " Mission of St. 
Augustino according to the Documents," I'rofessor 
Collins' lonrnod and careful little volumo deals with a subject of 
special interest just at the present time. The facts of which the 
author treats are tolerably familiar, but, as ho remarks in his 
introduction, " one cannot read contemporary litcnkture without 
seeing how ditferently the events of tho year 507 are regardoil by 
lieopio who look at them from dill'orent intellectual stsuid- 
pointa." His aim is '' to present the facts again in their 
historical sotting, allowing ihem so far as possible to speak for 
themselves." Ho finds little diflicidty in vindicating the claim 
of Pojie Gregory to be the virtual founder of the Knglish Chtirch. 

He rratOTM, with ' — ison b« wo think, t^> • *• : the 

stntemoiit of ao a hiatorian aa liis! - Uat 

" not .\  . I'lii .Aiiian, is the 1." 

The eir .t on "Celtic < < a« 

sill I im|Mrtial. Tliu up.iliwl uf ProfuMtur Collitia' 
■111 .. n : - 

'Id trace barli the o: i li to tb* oliW 

Briti-h Oiii-tiiinily, or t.. ;ir« whatever, 

is t i tory. . . . 'lite '■ tint ish ' >ot the Botbrr 

af I . but an elder sister ; and at flr>t . no riwifc— ed, a 
very uufntiiMlly one. 

Professor Collins' able vindication of the Kngliah Church 
gains rather than loses in cogency by hia generous recognition of 
the debt which Knglish Christianity owea to tb' <'•■•■—' >>f Rump. 
The last word has long since boon aaici in the contro- 

versy resjH'Cting the t<Tritorial claim of tho Kngiisn i uurch and 
tho matter of episcopal juris<liotion. Professor ('ollina' 
summary of tho matter is lii • '..nt 

of history. Incidentally lo rv'a 

famous opistlu in answer to An- .. to 

quot<! an interesting letter from t  riy 

impugned the gonuinent'ss of the lottcT, but now acknowle<lges its 
authenticity. Another noticeable feature of the book is tiio dia- 
criminating and, on the whole, favourable estimate funned of 
Augustine's character. Tlio following paaaage aeema exactly to 
hit the mark : — 

Like St. Dominic, be is the ordinary man doing bis work extra- 
onlinarily well ; not the man of genius or of sfierial po\ven, but one of 
the nun who leave their mark u)>on the v. ' ' ly by going forward 

and doing that work which they are app It ia a 

splendid seven years' record. At his coniiiiK m '-.^i' the English people 
were entindy heathen : when be died the Church of the Eng liab wa* aa 
accomplished fact. 

The real facts of Augustine's career as Archbishop could scarcely 
be better descrilied. 

This little book desen-es high commendation. It is 
acctiratti, learned, and impartial : it ia WTitten in a vigorous and 
occasionally trenchant style, but is nowhero needlessly contro- 

The Theology of an Evolutionist. lU Lyman 
Abbott, "i v.'iin., vii. ! 11»1 pp. Ixiiulon, ls<)7. Clarke. 5- 

The wTiter of this book tells us that it is a<ldres8ed - 
Not to disbelievers in evolution to pn>\' 'to 

believers in evolution, to show them that ent 

with the Christian faith It i.« iu<'uii.-i.^tent with iiui< h in th<> 

old thfittoijii, but not with anything in the old faith. 

In his intro<luctory chapter, Dr. Abbott makes aasirtions 
roHpoctiiig '• theology " which are too swot'ping and iindi.scrimi- 
nating. He underrat(>s the extent to which in mo<lem 
times theology has accopte<l tho evolutionary account of the 
imiverae, of life, of the IJible ; and exaggerat«-s the extent to which 
in tho past theology has liecn bound up » ith a contrary conception. 
No one with any knowledge of their wiitings would maintain 
that the greatest Greek fathers, Athanaaius or Gregory of Nyssa, 
for example, were committed to any anti-evolutionary theories. 
When Dr. Abbott declares that " all nature and all life is one 
great theophany," ho is repeating almost the very wonls of such 
great medievol schoolmen as Scotiis Krigena ami Thomas Aijuinaa. 
Wo venture to refer him to Mr. Illingworth's essay in " Lux 
Mundi " on "The Incarnation and Development," or to the 
late Mr. Aubrey Moore's essays on " Science and the Faith." It 
is true that tho WTiter makes tho ailmission that " the so-called 
new theology is as old as tho old t" ' " ; but li' ' .re 

assumes that " theology " bos ' iv comnii' to 

an anti-scientific view lioth • i». 

This book has a certaiii •. t's 

own gradual emancipation from a crude and narrow system of 
religions thought. From other points of view it will appear 
somewhat sujierficial in tn-atment, and somewhat belate«l in its 
conception of the dilticidties which uowa<lays press upon religious 
minds. In discarding " the old tlieology," Dr. Abbott has 
parted with a great bo<ly of thought which probed more deeply 




[Ausust 6, 1898. 

asd f:n»ptA mora intelKcvntly the problem* in he aolTed. Hii 
book i* marketl, in f»ct, bjr the ilefecU anil limiUtions which 
alirajt heaet a miml that fimli iUu-U in rvaction r.);ain8t ciirront 
belief*. It iwMrta vithoiit (lisoriniination : it ii npt to be 
eontsnt ,«»<>( thingg. 

There i- , of the book 

vhich is tri ''<)• ^\» rvl«r »(«cially to the 

admirable ik- i . -on in Cliapter I ., and the two 

chapter* on " Brolution nnd Mimclos." 


Mr. H. Heathcote Sutham'* Abohitk. n uk Amoso thr 
POKT* (Bataford, 3*. 6d. n.), which begins with Humur and ends 
with Browning, i* a pleasant and intelligent commentary on the 
chief i»«aage« in English poetry which mention architecture and 
architectond details, and the author's illustrations which attt>nipt 
to naliaa the poets' descriptions are often very snccossful. In 
the tukrlier portion of the book Mr. Statham might have quoted 
Lrdgate's " Boke of Troj-e " :— 

Dsrysad ware longe Urge and vydv 
Of eT«i7 itraate in the frontcr aTiie 
Preab* alore* with lusty bye pjnucles 
And moonsttyiDg outward costly tabemaclr* 
Vaulted abore lyke to rcelynatoiyes 
Tliat eallnl were deambulatoryes 
Men to walk toiptbcrs twaine aod twaine 
To k*pe them drye when it happed to rayne. 
' ro architectural loci, Uw, in " Piers Plowman " which 

are been worth some attention. The author makes 
rmther • bold inference from the silence of Chaucer as to the 
bSMuty of the medieval cathedrals. This silence (Mr. Statham 

rHnark*) : — 

Contaa* tb* opinien which ha« been fometima* sn^Kested by modein 
writan U»t the •eBthneot which we feel in regard to the medieval 
tisthedf 1* did not exist in the age in which they were built, at all 
e^aali a* far as the geaeral body of the people were concerned : it may 
litre existed among the religious bodies. 

The argument from omission or silence is alH-ays danprrous, and 
the student of the Middle Ages would probably be able to pro<luce 
a good deal of evidence showing that the people took the greatest 
pride and delight in the womlerftd churches that tlio genius of 
tJie nation was producing. But the case is analogous to that 
feeling for the beauty and awe of nature which Wordsworth has 
been supposed to have discovered. Wo know, however, that the 
emotion of nature has always been pnment in the htiman heart— 
it must have been present in the darkest days of the eighteenth 
century, though it never found its full literary expression before 
the time of Wordsworth and Coleridge : and in the same way 
our me<lieval forefathers felt the beatity of the cathedral, though 
they di'l * '• much about their lesthetic emotions. 

Tnn ■< or TiiF. Kast, Archdeacon Sinclair's " Seventh 

Charge I*. M. n.), is another testimony to the in- 

nuserd  ' i''b is hieing taken in the affairs of orthodoxy. 

The ant! «ely and usefully, an account of the 

history. • of the Greek Ch\irch. ami he points 

out that tho' n in its strict sense is not to be looked 

for in the in,: - future, yet there is everything to be said 

for the establishment of " closer relations " l»etwceii the Angli- 
cans and the Kastems. There can bo no doulit, indeed, that oven 
at the prnoent stage of alTairs the discussion has hml a thoroughly 
wholwwime elTwt on the mind of the Knglish Church. Tlie clergy 
who were wont to ik»<Ti)«<' the Book of Common Prayer as " otir 
inromparaliK- never troublwl thcmwivos 

to cfjmpare t ; nny other, nntl those of 

another s-hool. » ' \r, wore 

content, for th<> . by the 

Roman Missal an<l Breviary. Oi :■ >l>lo 

work done by l>.ltn..r Rtwl V. nl.. 1 . :.^iL u-d, 

atki Arrhdea 'ted on having cboson 

tba subject o< hm- : ' mmk h,-.' .■- iiM- subject of hi* charge, 

since, whatever tl' '^t reault, the cause of Catholicity in 

its wideet seoM will r>' promoted, and there will be no excuse 

for regarding either the Prayer-l>ook or oven the Missal as the 
bed-roi:k ami source of all Christianity. 

Fathkb .Iohn, by Dr. Alexander Whyt«i (Oliphant, 2».), 
should lie a clie.Ting sign to all who holH> for Christian reuiiiim. 
For Dr. NVhyte is 4t PreBbyt»'rian minister, and yot this little 
liook is a fervent eulogy of the famous Russian priest, .lohn 
SergiofT, the " Cun< d'Ars " of tho Greek Church, tlu" man who 
a<iministero<l the last Sacnimonts to the late Tsur, whose name 
will fwrbnps one day apiwar in the Greek canon as St. John 
lliii' -^ For the dying Tsar felt relief and comfort when 

tho ;uids were stretched out over him, and thousands 

wait lor lather .lohii to come out that they may toucli the hem 
of his garment. Surely it is an omen of a great cliaiigo shortly 
to pass over the spirit of Protostantiain when a Presbyterian 
divine can praise the loauty not only of the priest's life, but of 
the Church to which that life is consecrated -when ho can 
acknowledge Orthodoxy as tho mother and origin of all Churches. 

There con !« no doubt but that the late Dr. Koliert Young 
ho<l taken great pains over his Litkii.vl Translation of thk 
BiBi.K (Kiliiilmrgh : Young, Ss. M.), but it seems extremely 
doubtful whether he was well a<lvisc<l in entering on such a 
task. Such a t>ook as this is meant either for the learned or un- 
loarnc<l. To the former, who can read the original texts, it is 
superfluous, to tho latter it is a stumbling block, since there is 
nothing that ainieals more to tho sense of tho uneducated than 
the roll of a familiar passage, the cadence that has seeniotl solemn 
music from tho time of childhood. JJf volnn facile e»i — it is 
useless for men of letters to protest that they too have rights in 
the Bible— but Dr. Young's rendering of the following well- 
known place in St. Paul's Kpistle to tho Corinthians indicates 
pretty clearly tho artistic faults of the version : — 

And this, I say, brrthrrn, that flesh nnil blooil tlie rrign of God is 
not able to inherit, imr doth the corruption iiilierit thr incornmtion ; lo, 
I ti'll you u secret ; we, inilced, shall not all sleep, and we nil ishall l>e 
rhaiiKetl ; in a moment, in the twinklinfi of an eye, in the last trumpet, 
for it sliall sournl, and the dead shall be raised uicorruptible, and we — 
we shnll be changed. 

Two recent books enforce in difTerent manners, but with 
equal vigour, the lesson of the Iin]>cnum BrilaiDiicuin, tho need 
for consolidation and preparation against probable att;ick. One 
of these books, Imi', by Mr. C. do Thierry (Duckworth, 
2s.). is imperially " introtluccd " by Mr. W. E. Henley, who 
minces no phrases. " Wo had waxed fat," ho says, " and we 
htid learned to feel a kind of pride in being kicked." Again : — 

In '84 we siirned the London Convention, and, at ti.e cost of our 
very (rreateat and moBt useful life, we g*vv the Soudan back to bnrlmriam. 
In '38 we won the fight on the Atbars, and exonerated Mr. Rhodes. 
And the diflerence Iwtwcen Kngland in '84 and Kncland in '!'» is as the 
differenro Ixtween a man bocussed and a man with all his wits. 

The other lx)ok, Whf.n War Bukakh Oit, by Messrs. H. W. 
Wilson and Arnold White (Harper, Is.), tolls tho tale of tho 
naval war between Kngland and the united fleets of France 
and Russia in the year 190U. The story is put in the mouth of 
an imaginary American corre»i>ondent, and though it may have 
the form of a jo" iVrnprit, the warning it conveys is a serious one. 

Messrs. Richard Bennett and .lohn Klton have com- 
mencod a very interesting monograph on the Histoby or 
Cork Mii.mno (Simi>kin, Marsliall). Tho first volume, de- 
voted to " Handstoiies, Slave and Cattle Mills," which is 
before us. is especially noticeable as containing a very large 
nnmb<>r of illustrations'of ancient corn-grinding. Some of these 
illustrations are remarkably curious ; among them wo may 
mention tho figure of an ancient K^yptian toy, which, crudely 
jointed in the stylo of a Dutch lioll, was made by means of a 
string to counterfeit the backward and forwanl motion of a slave 
grinding corn. 

Mr. Walter Candy, author of The Romancb ok Glass- 
■\I r  ' r.. 2s. Gd.), has told the story of <lecorotive 

i.iilar and pleasi«nt ninimer. The first chaptor, 
 (iinss HI I.I-. mi and Fancy," might jjerhaps have Imh'II omitted 
with advaiita;;c, sinci- Mr. <!andy has hardly even su^igcHted the 
importJint part played by objects made of glass in p*)piilar 

The or Classioai. Portkaith : Gnsek and lioman 
(Dent, Is. «<l. each), prenare<l, with a commentary, by Mr. 
W. H. D. Rouse, M.A., sdould, os tho author suggests, nrove a 
verj- useful help to the boy " confronto<l with a mass of names 
none of which lie has hoard before." 

Mr. T. B. Pandian, tho atithor of Inman Vii.laok Folk 
(Stock, 4s. 6d.), tolls in a verj- pleasant manner tho stfiry of his 
own pooplo, their arts and crafts and amusomoiits. He is a 
little hard on tho village doctor, " who has pills for every 
disease that can be thought of," one of these pills being 
agreeably named " vaigunda-mattira "—the pill that sends into 
the other world. 

Ati<,'UMt 0, 1898.] 




Not here your vast imperial mart, 
WluTc inyriiiil cliwliinf^ liop«vs are huried, 
V\'lien« furious rivals meet and part 
To woo a world. 

Not hers your vast imperial town, 
Not hers your Mammoth jiiles of k'""» 
Your loaded vessels sweeping down 
To glut the main. 

Unused, unseen, her rivers flow, 
From mountain tarn to ocean tide ; 
Wide vacant leagues the sunbeams show, 
Tlie rain-clouds hide. 

YOU swept them vacant I Your decree 
Bid all her budding commerce cease ; 
YOU drove her from your subject sea. 
To starve in peace ! 

Well, be it peace ! resigned they flow. 
No laden fleet adown them glides. 
But wheeling salmon sometimes show 
Their silvered sides. 

And .sometimes through the long still day 
The breeding herons slowly rise. 
Lifting grey trancjuil wings away. 
To tranquil skies. 

Stud all your shores with pros])erous towns ! 
Stretch far your suburbs, mile on mile I 
Kedden with bricks your patient downs, 
And proudly smile ! 

A day will come before you guess, 
A day when men with clearer light, 
Will rue the deed without redress, 
Will loathe that sight. 

And loathing, fly the hateful place, 
And, shuddering (juit the hideous thing. 
For where unblackened rivers race, 
And skylarks sing. 

For where, remote from smoke and noise, 
Old leisure sits knee-deej) in grass; 
Where simple days bring simple joys, 
And lovers jwiss. 

I see her in those coming days. 
Still young ; still gay ; her unbound hair 
Crowned with a crown of sea-green rays. 
Serenely fair. 

I see an envied haunt of peace, 
Calm and untouched, remote from roar, 
Where men may lay their burdens down 
On n still shi^-e. 


Hniono m^ Boohs. 

— ^ — 


Several attempts have recently been made by pUMhing 
iioveliKts or their injudicious friends to revis '••d 

fashion of seventeenth century writers, wi :<'r 

have remained in the limbo of forgotten thing*. Tlie 
publication of choice sentences or aphorisms selected by 
the complai.><ant authors from their works, and given to 
the public in the form of" Birthday books " or " Beautieg," 
is, indeed, when rightly regarded, but a jxk ' iit 

to the distinguished writers themselvet;. .\ l- 

withstanding, it may be safely concluded that a well 
regulated ox would regard with sad disil! nt the 

demonstration of the fact that all the nutrii. ijile of 

his huge bulk could be comfortably concentrateti in a pint 
jar; and similarly for a voluminous writer to admit that 
his '' beauties " may 1k' packed into an exiguous i>amphlet 
must come to him somewhat in the nature of a shock. 

We have, in fact, outgrown the age of verbal quotation. 
The modern reader does not j)eruse a lxx)k for the purj)Ose 
of treasuring in his mind the isolated bits of wisdom it 
contains in the language of the author. The large clai-s 
of works, of which the main object is to amuse, is devoured 
by people who are avid of the events related, and are 
well-nigh oblivious of the ^style in which they are set 
forth, so long as it be clear and intelligible. In books 
intended to instruct, also, lucidity of language is the first 
reijuirement. There is too much to learn — too much to 
read — for the ordinary man or woman of to-day to burden 
memory witti the jwrticular form of words emjdoyed to 
state a fact or enforce a principle. He studies best who 
assimilates the contents of a book in a way which enables 
him to reformulate the essence of its teaching in his own 
words. To learn wisdom by rote, to adopt a ready-made 
code of ethics from the cut-and-dried aphorisms out of a 
cojjybook, apjiertains either to infancy of culture or 
immaturity of age, and may well be left to the latter at 
the end of this century of mental emancijjation and 
untrammelled individual judgment. 

In the seventeenth century the case was widely 
diS'erent. The need for an extensive knowledge of facts 
was smaller ; a half dozen books lasted an ordinary citizen 
his lifetime, and were read and relished again and again. 
The choice bits they contained were treasured up and 
produced sententiously on more or less appropriate 
occasions to make up for the reader's own jiaucity of 
language or ideas. Men were then more ready to be ruled 
by the dicta of others than they are now. We have cast 
off the verbal leading-strings, and Ihjw only to forceful 
facts. Great ideas and vital truths still sway our conduct, 
as they ever did, and will ; but henceforward they will do 
so in the measure that we are i»enetrated by their spirit 
rather than because we recollect the fonn of words in 
which they are stated. But though we may deprecate, as 
opi>oseiI to the tendency of modern litwature, the attempt 
to resuscitate the aphorism, the grave affectation of it, by 
writers who flourished when it was a power, adds a quaint 




[Auffust 6, 1898. 

•ttnwUon to many an othenknse dull old tome, and matches 
well mnth the ceremonious addretis and stilted demeanour 
of their aj^e. As I write, I have liefore me a row of 
delightful !4|uat volume.^, bound in ancient calf, or limp, 
^■ellov-ish \ellum. each book of which hai* at the end a col- 
lection of • - whicii the writer or 

publiiihert:. ., : i iiti< of the lxx>k. They 

are generally in the nature of asides, and often miglit be 
omitted altogetlier from the Ixtoks without destroying the 
sequence of the text ; in fact, one is K'd to believe that 
(m|uently they were spun 8e|>arately, and woven into the 
book as opportunity otTere<i, like < in a jmrlia- 

mentary speech. lialioi-hi-foucauldlnL., n- instrmtion 

by preaching his goeiiel of cynical selfishness inaiKiphthegms 
alone, without giving himself the trouble of writing the 
padding ; but the rt>sult of his sen ing up a dish consisting 
eolely of spices, without the substantial fiire, u'as to gain 
for him the reputation of a pungent wit rather tlian n 
profound philosopher. And yet the solemn historian 
Strada, math whose philosophy his contemporaries were so 
much in love, had all the cynicism of the brilliant 
Frenchman with a commonplace shallowness to whieli 
the latter would never have descended. Such obvious 
truisms as "After great happiness, misfortune is the 
more bitter " ; or, " Fear always imagines evils to 
be nearer than they are," do not strike one as being 
either profound or witty. It is true that Stnwla could 
do better than that at a pinch. For instance, " Fury 
itself should be regulated to prevent its being fruit- 
less," " Men usually believe that what is lieyoiid the 
reach of their wit is unattainable by any huoun 
power," and " The most dangerous maladies are cured by 
the boldest physicians," are clothed in a certain smartness 
of statement which hides their triteness. Nothing in La 
Rochefoucauld is more bitter than Strada's " It is safer to 
tie men's hands to prevent them from injuring us than to 
win their will to do us good," " Vou may allow a gambler 
to tear up the cards after you have won his money," 
" None are so ready to plwlge their faith as those who 
break it easiest," or " It is not safe to offend jKHiple whom 
you cannot crush." The great Savoyard philosopher 
Giovanni Botero, who has never yet had justice done iiini, 
spent the closing years of his long life in compiling two 
big volumes of the lUtli memorabili, which he had heard 
and noted from the great men with whom he had come 
into contact ; but few of the aphorisms he collected from 
saints and jioiies, kings and statesmen, were so wise or far- 
seeing as those which have been gathere<l from his own 
voluminous writings. A .Malthusian centuries before 
Malthus was Iwm, a champion of the rights of the private 
citizen, who refuted the \'icioaB teachings of Machiavelli 
in thr- ' ' ' ' - * in ; an advocate of free trade 
and li . at a time when trade and 
industry were only looked upon as the milch cows of 
tyrantii; Botero was "'' ' ■ii,'e<l to hide his tnaxims 
under somewhat cryjiti „ ::ige, but there is enough 
frankneiM about them to have brought him to the stake, if 
he had not be«'n a ; vian ami tin- mentor of his 

i.rii.r... " Ttie enti-, .. ^uuncils of princes die with 

them : the deliberations of free cities are almost immortal " 
was a bold thing to write in the sixteenth century, as 
also was, '* What is the go<xl of loading your gallows 
and butchering men without end ? The more familiiu- the 
gibbet-fruit becomes to the eyes the less effect does it 
produce, and the less is it dreadeti." " The way for rulers 
to avoid the jiestilence of faction is to refrain from leaning 
to either ]»arty in the State, and to be neutml at the heafl 
of both of thfin " is a forecast of the ])rpsent constitutional 
j>osition in England, whilst the following, with relation to 
industry, enforce teachings which did not become general 
for two centuries later: " Industry is of infinitely greater 
imi>ortance than mines of gold or silver. Tlie customs of 
Milan are of more value to the King of Simin than the 
mines of Potosi." " France has no mines of precious 
metals, but she has abundance of money." '* Kiclies lind 
their way to where the things necessary for ordinary life 
are most abundant, and the wise ruler will think most of 
promoting agriculture and industry." " The first care of 
a ruler should be to encourage the manufacture of the 
raw material produced in his own country." And yet 
the philosopher who could write aphorisms thus wise and 
weighty was so ignorant of natund phenomena that belays 
down the principle that the deei)er the water the heavier 
burden it will bear, and consetjuently the sjifer the naviga- 
tion. Hotero's Sovereign, Carlo Einmanuele, fired by the 
example of his teacher, tried his hand at composing 
aphorisms; but they lacked the wisdom of those he 
imitated. The following, however, is a pretty piece of 
princecraft. "He" (/.e.. a commander) "should never 
adopt an important resolution without taking counsel, but 
he should never let the councillors know his final decision." 
The usual tendency of the I'rince's aphorisms is to pre- 
senile imj)08sible virtues and (juaiities to leaders and rulers, 
most of the maxims being in striking contrast to the 
author's own career. 

No one {xjlished his a])horisms more carefully, or 
collected them more ostentatiously, than did Antonio 
Perez, when in the safe refuge of Essex House he ]K'nned 
his bitter attacks on the Sovereign he betrayed, or indite<l 
his cringing letters to those whose friendship he sought. 
In after years, indeed, he lalwriously explained and com- 
mented upon his own aphorisms, certainly not to their 
advantage ; for an aphorism that needs an explanation or 
a gloss is self-condemned as bad. But Perez's ajiliorisms 
were not bad — (juite the contrary, for few more witty have 
ever been written. His extension of them was generally 
only an attempt to .make them more spiteful to the 
Monarch he hated. For instance, one of his aphorisms is, 
" There are times when it is safer to be a debtor than a 
creditor"; to which, in a jiarenthesis, is adde<l, "The 
author of this wiis a creditor." And again, " I^et no one 
dejtend uiM)n the merits of his jmst services " ; to which 
is appended, " A iKwt-horse is prized only so long as he 
can keep the road. When he falls he may stay." " There 
is no jioison so nauseous as envy, except the confideu'-e of 
kings." As if this was not clear enough, Antonio must 
nepfis enforce it by " But even this will frigliten nobody. 
Favourites like letter to Im? envietl than to Ije pitied, 

August (5, 1898.J 



thongh pitied and pitiful they will bo in the end." "With 
soiiu- kiii^-i tlicn" In only ii wink hftwcfn tlieir nmile and 
their Hwoid," lie 8ay« — an expienHionwhicIioni'ofIMiiiip II.'h 
eiirlient MojjrajiherH adoptwl as liis own. Another 
hitter suyinj,' of Antonio's is, " Favour of i<ing8 is tleudly 
]Hiison ; but for all those who die of it there are more who 
thirst for it." Home of I'erez's aphorisniH, when he can 
forj^et his jrt'rsonai Bpite, are really fine. For instance, 
"The lamentations of the weak are the mightiest of all 
curses, for they jxiss their venj^eanee on to (iod." " It is 
an old trick of human cunninj,' for men to seek for merits 
and deserts in themselves, in order to avoid gratitude to 
(iinl." "The most dangerous torrent is a Hood of jMitient 
tears unjustly provoked." " The longer is the judgment 
of heaven delayed, the greater liecoincs the debt and 
interest, even as the handn of a clock, which move imiier- 
c('i)tihly, arrive at last ; and then come.s the stroke.' 
Hundreds more might be cited, hut these will show Perez 
in some of his many moods. He, too, could lie moilem ; 
and in one of his aphorisms anticipates a famous saying 
of Abe Lincoln : " I'ublic opinion is the true touchstone ; 
for one man cannot deceive every one, nor can every one 
deceive one man." But, smart a.s some of the aphorisms 
were, their day is past. The world is no longer ruled by 
phrases. Our age is one of tacit truths ; and, ii-; T.r./ 
tersely says, " Each century stamps its own coin." 




I Bv Kmkhii' Hi| 

One hlwik Juno day in the year of ffmc« niiu<t<H>n hundred 
nud two, a yoinig man, dressed in the height of fashion, and 
carrying a gold-knobbed walking-stick, ctiancod to l>o standing on 
the pavi'mcnt at Hydo-jiark-odrner, waiting for the green omnibus. 
He wore a Rmall flower in his l>uttonholo, and, on closer inspi'c- 
tion. it cduhl l>e .seiii that the Mower was a rose— a white rose. Ho 
had not loni; to wait liefnre tlu> imrticular omnibus lie re<iuireil 
rumliled up, and, plunging in, he took liis .seat near the door, for 
ho likt'<l frcsli air. Inside, the omnibu.s was nearly full; indeed there 
was but room for one more pa-ssciigiT ; outside, it carrie<l only 
the driver and an errand boy. Hardly lind the young man taken 
his seat when, just as the vehicle was once more on the point of 
starting, a young lady tripped daintily across the street from 
the opposite side and wavoil her parasol as a signal for the 
omnibus to stop. 

Krancis Morrythwaito, for such was the yoinig man's name, 
olwerved the approach of tho young lady with considerable com- 
placency, which w as tho next moment increaseil when the omnibu.i 
stoppe<l in olwdience to the lady's .signal, and, st«!pping in with 
a pretty show of embarrassnu'ut and tluster, she stxKxl for a second 
in charming irresolution where to bestow herself. Mr. Morry- 
thwaito instantly made room for tho newcomer Iwside him, and 
giving him a grateful smile of acknowle<lgmont she sank into 
the vacant place, and, leaning back, stared through the opposite 
window with a strange appearance of preoccupation as the omnibus 
once more rolled on. This atfordtsl Krancis both leisure and 
opportmiity tt> scrutinize the young lady nii>re attentively and at 
the same time unobtrusively. She was remarkably beautiful. Her 
skin was very fair, her complexion soft and clear, her eyes were 
dark and winning, and her mouth small and rosy-lippetl. It 
would, in fact, recpiire far mon^ than two epithets respectively to 
descrilK' witli any di'jrrei' of justii'e tlu' iharuis of eaili fiutnri' of 

her f»M», The whole effect of it wim r>i-.uliiirlv nui^-nilii- to » 
suHCoptiblii young innn like Mr. Mer^ »••« 

he in » mental catalogue of her nttru. ii-,,-. i,,..^ ..■..•ImI 

the prngr<>ss of either the omnibus or time, hihI it waa with sur- 
prise that he observiMl presently that I' ' ' ' '  .uly 
carrii-'l hint nlmoHt to the circus emi • : the 
on IV 

Halt .Moon-»tre«'t was but a {•■» 'dd 

care to alight. Thanking the c<h, 'kI, 

ami while Francis still cmne«l over the liea<iH oi  .,i'r» 

to try and trace the |iaasage of her s*iftly-v.i;- the 

omnibus drove on and she livcamo lost to his view. II k in 

his place with a sigh, and for several tnomont« gaw: ......^ it up 

to idle s]M'Culatioii u|><)ii the identity and duatiny o( tho lovely 
traveller, whose Imauty api><iare<l to him of ■• ' loua 

and alisorbing character. In the midst of hi -> be 

was ill the act of carrying it t<> hi* tr :iml 

clianced to light upon a small, hanl "l' -at. 

Instinctively his lingers closed upon it, .. the 

roco.H8 of tho cushion where it ha<l been n [ ish- 

ment he percoivo<l the object to l>e a plain, rusaiaii-loather 
(Kjcket-book, loosely fastoned with a pie<.-e of elastic. He 
opened it with the intention of ascertaining, if possible, some 
clue to tho name or address of it« owner, lliero was, however, 
no name on tho lly leaf, and tho remainder of the pages were 
l>encilled over with jottings in a language which ho did not 
understand. Tho note-lxM^k apiieariMl to 1mi an articl« of small 
value, and, thinking no more alKiut it, ho thru -'lat 

l>ockot and juni|)od from the omnibus. Turnini; "he 

walked briskly along till he rcacheil tho end of iiow-stroot. 'there 
is hero a small shop, in the wimlows of which is displayeil a 
viuriety of interesting sporting prints. Francis Merrj-tbwaite 
jiausod to glance in at this window, and, while he stood looking at 
the pictures, his lips unconsciously whistled a tune from the 
opora of l''.lll.^^ which ho had hoard playe«l an hour or two ago 
on a barrel organ, and which had been running in his head, a* 
tunes sometimes do, ever since. He was on the ix>int of turning 
away, when two gentlemen, who Ijecn' ol>serving him from 
the opjiosite side of tho ro,vl, crt>sse<l rapi<lly over, and at the 
same instant a cab drew up to the s|«it. One of tho gentlemen 
immediately approached Francis, while tho other opened the cab 

" You are punctual to the moment, sir," said the first, ad- 
dressing Francis in a quick, decisive tone. " Pray get in. We 
do not desire to loiter," and he motioned him towards the cab. 

" I beg your panlon -" began Francis, when the stranger 
interrupted him. 

" Not a word, not a word," he exclaimed brusquely, " till 
wo roach home. .lump in. Sir." 

Francis was so taken aliock by Ihi.s sudden and unexpootod 
address that ho yielded mechanically t<i the pressure of Uui 
stranger's grasp upon his arm, and had Uie next moment entered 
the vehicle without very well knowing what he wa« about. The 
two gentlemen followe<l him, the door closed, and tho cab drore 
otr at a groat pace in the direction of tho Strand. Neither of the 
gentlemen spoke, and Francis look«l from one to the other of 
them in a curious bewilderment. At length he ventured to break 
the silence. 

" May I ask where you are  •' to ? " ho in<|uire<l. 

The gentleman named a s- i situated not far from 

Charing-cross ; then he added : — 

" I dislike conversing in cal>s, sir." 

Francis shrugged his ahouldors with a gesture of comical 
resignation, and again relapsed int In a few minutes 

the cab stop|ie<l at the doors of the i :i-| refnimd to, luid 

the shorter and stouter of the who ha>l 

addrcs.'ie<l Francis, opened tht n with a 

singular show of respect. Tho latter cab and 

requestetl Francis to follow him in; ;i he pro- 

ceeded to enter in a hasty manner, as though he would aroid 
observation. Francis was a second time about to protest when 



[August G, 1898. 

tb* othM- gantlMMtD, who wm just behind him, exclaimed in a 
deep, gnttur*] roioe :— 

•' Follow : " 

Hm tooe in which the word w«« nttortxl l<oro n  n 

ol oomnMad, eren of menace, and persuadini; himsolf > o 

wont no harm could rr^ult to him from an accident to which ho 
wM no perty, Francis jtidgoil it more prudent to rocoivo tho ox- 
pUnation of thin iiin{;utar conduct inside the hotel rather than 
on the crowded paremont. 

" I will SCO t)ii« nonsonao through," he thought, and together 
with tbe atrMigera he entered the building. 

The talkir and yxmnger of tho gentlemen instantly led the 
way !  • of staim, and pausing at a door on tho first land- 

ing, I. it with a private key, and flinging it o{x>n bade 

Waneis preoede him into the room. No sooner had the three of 
them entered the chamber than tho gentleman again closod and 
locked tho door, and turning to Francis obserred with a smile : — 

*' Now, Sir, we can talk." 

" Perhaps," replied Francis, twiddling his cane non- 
ehalantly, " you will now be good enough to explain the mean- 
ing of all this." 

The other frowne<l slightly. 

" The meaning should bo clear enough," he said, with sudden 
haughtiness. " Your employers must have explained to you the 
situation before yon were despatchetl." 

" My employers ! " ejaculated Francis. " Despatched ! You 
an nnder some strange misapprehension. ' ' 

It waa now the turn of the gentleman to exhibit surprise. 

" Miaapprehension .' " he repeated. 

Fraoois made him an elaborate bow. " Sir," he said, " it 
is rery clear that you do me the honour to mistake me for some- 
body else." 

The gentleman started to his feet. 

" What .' " he cried — " but surely it is impossible." His 
tone betrayed considerable uneasiness, and he fixed his gaze 
penetratingly upon Francis. " You wear a re<l tie, you wear a 
white rose in your buttonhole, and you carry a gold-headed cane. 
I perceive, sir," ho a<lded with a laugh, " that at least you are 
a friend." 

" I perceive, sir," it was on Francis' tongue to retort, 
" that at least you are ii lunatic," when tho square, short gentle- 
man chime<l in. 

" It is pcttor," he said with a strong German accent, " not 
to beat about the push any longer." 

" Quite right," replied his companion abruptly. " Be good 
enough, Szarvas, to inform this gentleman who I am." 

" I have the pleasure, sir," said the other gruffly, " to 
present you to his Highness Prince Loris of Rivania." 

Francis Merrythwaite sank in a heap on the nearest chair, 
so overcome waa be with astonishment. 

" Rise, sir," said the Prince sternly, " I did not give you 
permiaaion to sit down." 

" I beg your i)ardon," stammered Francis, getting on to his 
feet again, " but the fact is I am taken completely by surprise." 

" Then yon do not oome by appointment ? " demanded the 

" No, indeed," replied Francis. " Tho whole thing is a 

The Prince turned to the stout gentleman with a frown. 

" Fate leenu to hare played us a pretty trick, Ssarvas," ho 

" Ach,so," agreed the stout gentleman, sprcailing out his 
" What next f Wo have brought the wrong fellow." 

" Yes," said the Prince, addressing Francis, " we have, as 
Colonel Stannas says, brought tbe wrong fellow. You aro no less 
tiie Tietin of a strange blunder, sir, than we ourselves are. And 
•'  «on»t of it is that it is now too lafo to repair t)u\ blunder, 

li<l wo drive back we should arrive after our ap]>oint<-d hour, 
and our cmiaeary bad particular injunctions not to Wait longer 
than t4!n minute* at the sr^t nrraiigwl for our rcndenvous. Yet, 
sir," added tho Prince  ly, " exactly on tho stroko of 

three yoa stood at tho co:.. . .: liow-stroet, and you whistled tho 

tuno thut We hail sottlod u^ion aa a means of identification— the 
Flower Song from Fttu»l — besides carrying tho emblonis of tho 
party — a rwl tie, a white rose, and a gold-knobbod walking-stick. 
How do you account for so extraordinary nn array of coinci- 
donoos ? " 

" I can't account for tlioni," said Francis. " I constantly 
wear a ro<l tie and sonit'tinios a white rose. This walking-stick 
is the only one I chance at the moment to possess. Tho tune I 
waa whistling I had heard a few minutes previously on a barrel 

The Prince drow a deep breath. 

" Fate is singularly capricious," he remarked. " Who could 
hove drcainod it would have played us so deplorable a trick 'i" 
Now, sir," he continued, with a suddon change of tone, " I may as 
well confess to you that I am in a diflicidty, ond having told you 
so much I must exact from you a promise of inviolable confi- 
dence. First, t«dl mo your name." 

" Francis Merrj-thwaite," replied Francis. 

" Ah, Merrythwaite. Well, Mr. Merrythwaite, what is your 
profession ? " 

" I am connected with an office," said Francis. " A confi- 
dential clerk, your Highness." 

" Can you write shorthand ? " 

" I can." 

" Well, now, tliat is providential. Do you understand 
I-Vench ? " 

" ParfaHemcni," replied Francis, in order to show that he 
could. " 1 was two years in Paris, your Highness.'' 

" Koally, chonco favours us," exclaimed the Prince. " My 
third question, sir, seems superfluous. You are, I hope , a young 
man of coiu-age and resolution ? " 

" I hope so," said Francis doubtfully. 

" Very well. Now, in as few words us I can, I will sketch 
to you the situation ; and let mo beg you to give me your close 
attention. You can sit down. I have alluded to a difficulty. 
It is this. A gentleman of an oppearanco unknown to me was 
to have met us at tlu'eo o'clock this afternoon at the corner of 
Bow-street. He was to be dressed in a frock coat, to wear a red 
tie, to display in his buttonhole a white rose, to carry a gold- 
knobbed cane, and to whistle softly, but audibly, a certain air that 
had been ogreod upon between us — the air from Fausi, in fact, 
tliat you yourself wore in the act of whistling when Colonel 
Szarvas and I approached you. For some inexplicable reoson 
that gentleman did not arrive at tlie appointed moment ; but 
in his place came another, answering in every particular to tho 
description of the one for whom wo waited ; that other was 
yourself. The gentleman we expected was in the confidence of 
tho party of which I am the head, and was despatched to mo by 
my private committee, in order to attend mo on a mission of some 
consequence. The service I required of him was, indee<l, that of 
transmitting in shorthand the report of certain proceodings at 
which I intund to be present to-night ; and, as thoso proceedings 
will probably bo conducted in French, it was also imperative that 
he should be skilled in thut language. Both of these (jualitica- 
tions, sir, by a happy chance, you appear to possess. Now, as 
that gentleman who. was to have discharged those services remains 
in complete ignorance of tho destination for which I intended 
him to-night, it iff, you observe, impossible for him to rejoin us 
now that ho has, in tho tirst instance, failed to keep his rendez- 
vous. It is necessary, very necessary, that I should find another 
to fill his place. And I design that that other shall l>e yourself," 
concluded the Prince, calmly. 

Before Francis could sufficiently recover from his surprise to 
reply. Prince Loris restimod :— 

" To-night there is to bo hold a Council of the Borastriim 
Party, at which will be discusso<l the details of certain military 
plans relating to the campaign about to bo commenced by tho 
King of Borastria against my dominions. For reasons I 
ne^l not explain to you these o|M'rations are to ba diroctod from 
tho Knglish capital, where the King's chief agents are now 
asst^mblcd. The Council will lie in receipt of certain documents 
from Svorn&k, the Rivanian capital, and tho contents of those 

August G, 1898.] 



(lociimonte it bohoreii mo to loam, and thoso docnmonta thorn- 
nolvoii t<> «»)i/.o. Tho iluxpiitulieH, Hir, aro written, ai-conling to 
diplomatics iMistom, in uipliur ; and tho koy of tho ciphtir ho* 
Imon diKcoviTod fur mo tfwlny. Mllo. Fiili»<i, a liidy of "insT'ilar 
talent, and a HtJincli Hiipimrtor of my cunmi, ium  'in 

gaining poM8ossit)n of thn ciphur, through lior ucqiuu i ith 

and inlluonoi) ovor a mombor of tho King's Council. How this 
lady procurod its posaosMion it ia uniu-ooMRary fop mo to toll you, 
further than that shu obtained it by the exorcise of tho most 
adroit fominino taot and strategy, and without permitting the 
slightoxt suspicion of its loss to assail tho guntleman from whom 
she Hciiuiro<l it. I recoivod from Mllo. Foliso a telogram to this 
etfoct only two hours ago, ond so you seo, our position is doubly 
stn>ngthono<l, for I have olroady loarnt the password of the 
lioraitriaii Covincil to-night." 

Tho Princo pau.iod for a moment and a Huiile of satisfaction 
passed ovor hi.s face. It was, howevor, rapidly succee<led by an 
expression of seriousness and decision as his Highness con- 
tinued : — 

" The part you will have to play will \w a very simple one, 
but it may demand a little norvo. Myself, Colonel Sxarvas, and 
ovoral gontlomon will proceed to-nightto tho Ikirastrian Council 
hamber. Tho Council is a largo ono and tho prosonco of half a 
dozen gentlomen moro or le.s.s will not Mxcito notice. Wo shall 
take our plaiH>8 at thn Council board with tho rest. Meantime 
you shall lie placed Ixjhind a screoii and sliall thero write a short- 
hand report of what pii.sse.s. .\t a given signal I and those gontlo- 
mon with mo shall docliiro our.solvos. Wo shall be armed with 
revolvers. Six revolvers go far, Mr. Morrythwaito, towards «ul>- 
duing a roomful of unarmed men," smiled the Prince. " I desire 
that you, too, shall carry one. And when we you will ho good 
enough instantly to join my jmrty and act as we do. Are my 
instructions clear V " 

JVancis admittiid, with some dillidenco, that they wore, and 
thereupon the Princo turned suddenly to tho stout, fierce-looking 
gentleman, who appeared to bo his confi<lential conipiinion, ond 
who had remained througho\it the interview with his oyos fixed 
piercingly upon Francis' countenance, in a manner very disuon- 
corting to a modest yo\ing man. 

" Colonel Szarvas," saiil the Prince. 

" Your Highness," answerotl the other. 

" IJo good enough to take charge of this gentleman during 
my abeonco." 

" So," said the Colonel gutturally. 

" I will rejoin you at six o'clock, Mr. Morrytliwaite," ob- 
served the Prince, " when I propose that we shall dine. Mean- 
while I leave yo>i in Colonel Szarvas' hands." 

With that hi.s Highness turned and, whisjwring a few words in 
a German dialect to tho stout gentleman, abruptly left the room. 
(To be continued.) 


Rupert of Hentzau. Hy Anthony Hope. Being the 
Se((U('l ti) a Story liy llii" sanu' writer, entitled "The Pi-i.soner 
of /enda." With Illustrations by Charles D.ana (Jib.son. 
8x.5.Jin., :JS5 pp. Hristol, ISilS. AiTO'wsniith. 6/- 

We congmtulato 

Mr. Antliony Hojk" on the achieve- 
ment of a rarely accoinpli.sjieil feat. To an immensely 
and de.servedly popular romance he ha.>< .supplied a sefjuel 
scarcely, if at all. inferior to the deliijlitful story which it 
continues and conclinlcs. Of course lie mtist lie j)rei>aretl 
to hear — he hiv) in fact been told already — that '• Kui)ert 
of 1 lentzau " does not " come up to " '* The Prisoner of 
Zenda." Tliis lias been and doubtless will again be said 
of it. sometimes only because it is " tl>e thing " to say so 
— in which case it may of course be dismissed by the 
author from his consideration as so much "common form " ; 
and sometimes l)ei'ause it ex])resses the genuine disapjwint- 
ment of a critic who woidd have i)referred to finish the 
story himself in a different way — in which the author 

may Wrly accejit it nj» a flattering proof of the powerfal 

impreHdinn which the j)lot ajid jM-rnons of the original 
romance ha\ 'iiN>n that cri' I. He htw, in 

fact taken i _■<• of the ini' '«ecn tlu» two 

|M)rtionH of tiie narrative to inin i meiitully work 

out a different concliuiion to it, « if the ms^uoI 

had apfjoared an an additional volume published 
simultaneously with the firnt thin Hame cti' ht 

very probably have accepted it as the h. . ,il 

"inevitable" evolution of the plot. We at any rate are 
.Mtrongiy of opinion that Mr. Hojm-'h new novel would have 
thoroughly satisfied this very significant test. There ia 
not a ciiaracter in " The I'risoner of Zenda," from its 
hero and heroine themselves down to the .Sapts, and 
Fritzes, and Bernensteins, and the rest of t 'h 

whom he has not strictly ob.«er\ed the Horatii ud 

of consistency — none who does not in " Kujiertof Hentziiu " 
remain true to every trait of his picturesque jiersonality, 
and renew for us all the pleasure which belonged to our 
old ac(|uaintttnce with them. A great ' ' '' m thii), 

of course, must go to the making of a juel to 

so brilliant a romance as " The Prisoner of Zenda," but 
this, at any rate, is tlie primary condition of success, and 
this condition Mr. Hojie has amply fulfilled. 

There is but one [tarticular in which the equality 
of merit between the two novels might be j)lausibly 
contested. No doubt the advantage of strength is on 
the side of that " motive " which actuatetl .Mr. Rudolf 
I^assendyll in his resourceful and successful counterwork- 
ing of the dark designs of Duke .Michael of .Strelsau. 
The »hole intrigue of the sequel is founded on a letter 
addressed by Queen Flavia to Rudolf, and on his devoted 
and ultimately effectual effort to prevent it from falling into 
tlie hands of the King, her husband — a motive which 
is materially weakened by the necessary taking-off of that 
Monarch in the middle of the story, yet has nevertheless 
to do duty until the end. Given its adetjuacy, however, 
the story speeds along from first to last with the same 
spirited and unti iop as in the earlier volume. The 

author has had il - to encounter which might well 

have embarrassed a less skilled constructor of romance, 
for Rudolf Riissendyll, tiiough still the central figure 
in the stirring drama, is now no longer tlie relater of its 
incidents in his own person. Mr. Ho|>e has had to hold 
in his hands a twofold thread of narrative, in one of which 
the adventures of Mr. Rassendyll, and in the other those 
of Fritz von Tarlenheim, have through the first half of the 
volume to be sejiarately and alternately pursued. But 
this double theme has been worked out by a process of 
development so clear and orderly that the reader is never 
for a moment at a loss in following the movements of the 
actors in the tragedy — for such it is. and was bound to be 
— and he accepts the {lathetic ut as one demanded 

alike hy the logic and by i ^ y of the situation. 
From the first we feel that the duel to the death between 
Rudolf and Rupert is one in which both must fall. The 
" villain of the piece" must be defeate<l, and defeated by 
the hero; but the only rewanl possible for his conqueror 
is an heroic death. Victorious over the enemy who had 
threatened the honour of Queen Flavia, and from whom 
he has at last wrested her iimocent, but compromising, 
letter, Rudolf meets his own fate at the hand of one of 
Rujiert's followers. The Queen is summoned to his bed- 
side, and the closing scene of their exquisite love story — 
one of the purest and sweetest in all modern romance — is 
thus descril)ed: — 

She came dry-eyed, calm, and queenly. We all drew hmtk, 
and she knelt down by his bed holding his hand in her two 



[August G, 1898. 

handa. Prvamtlr tfte h«nd atirrod ; the lot it ^ : then. knnwinK 
w\\ what he war' -aisMi it hera«lf ai '^ hor 

h«Ml. while lilio ! i»c«- t" the bm). II red 

for Um Uat timu uvi^r Uiu fflc: a in- luvtil .s<> woll. 

8lw ro— . ptMad hor arm «b< ix, ami kiHsiKl his 

lipa. H ' -0 to lii>. :imi lu' K<t<iiu><i t<) siK<ak to 

hpr, bir << heard tht> wordi, ovnii if wo wuidd. 

I . his ixdso, retr««tiii({ afterwards 

wi' • v., I little i)i"v-' <■"■ "■•V'low that 

he with iia now. Su i ncmned 

to ! • r..!».-.l Iillil^i'lf il ,.__.[ spuko in 

di '• I've tried to do 

til ^ _ ~ . I : iionstein, and you, 

ol ^ake my hmnd. No, don't kiss it. We've done with 

pr. ; 1." 

\V.  I aa he ImwIo us. Then he took the Queen's 

hand. w his mind, and moved it to his lifta. 

" In hio 4»ik1 in dfath, my sweet yueon," he niurnuirod. 
Ami then he fell aslvAp. 

And so we, too, bid adieu to the noblest and mo.<t chival- 
roiM figure that has lieen added to the grent gallery of 
romantic fiction since the last of the iininortal mu.'sketeers 
took leave of the world. 

For it is diameter, after all, which makes incident 
live, however generally tlii.-* truth ma}' be overlooked by 
the crowd of minor story-tellers who are just now over- 
whelming us with romances of adventure. It is the 
intensely dramatic contrast between Kudolf and Uujiert 
— a contnuit so intjire.-i.^ively brought out in the half dozen 
pages which jin*cede their duel to the death — whicii really 
lends its chief interest to that thrilling fight, with its novel 
and not easily conceivable finale. And it is the sustained 
charm and tenderness of Queen Klavia's character, and the 
poetry of her lover's knightly devotion to her, which carry 
us along through incident after incident which else would 
soon weary us by their bewildering profusion and their 
bi movement. Dramatic narrative will not of itself 

a\.. ...jut that abiding hold UjKin the sympathies of 

the reader which strength and truth of character-drawing 
alone can give, though never, it must be admitted, has 
the author more coiiimandingly displayed his power of 
bt itic situation and dramatic movement with 

vi iK'fore our eyes. An one of many exami)les, 

take the scene in the, where Kudolf. finding 
his footsteps dogged by the man Bauer, suddenly turns 
and confronts him, takes his arm, and leads hitn to the 
door of the house in which he Iv lievos Jiis enemy to be con- 
cealed. Wlicreujton this grimly jjlay ful dialogue ensues : — 

" Vou see?" askwl Huilolf pleasantly. " You nuist ring for 
me, mustn't vcm? Tt would startle them if I roused thorn with » 
»h<it." A ! the barrel told Bauer the direction which 

the »hrit W'l 

.id Bauer sullenly. 


ir way, mv friend ? " 
t knou," growled itauer. 
I . Can't vou euoss 'f " 
•' J of it." 

Vou knock and — listen my lad. You 
iii.i-v , ' • * • ! '" 

"I nier in an attempt at l>lust<'r. 

lied Kudolf. " Hut I liate 
« '«n in two minutes I shall 

II Vou See? Vou ciuit«> sihi, 

•I' ri the barrel pointotl and oxplainol Mr. 


th. .. •■,  -■■ ... ;^. 

aoand of a 
■afadiMd rs- 

For gaiety,  .,' il might In* 

D'Aitagnan hii I I'huit in Imml. 


. tirit loudly, 

• s in 


! \Mth a 

It is a veritable jiage from Dumas. In scenes of ra])id 
action, jwinted with dialogue in which every word is made 
to tell, the author ha.s never done himself fuller justice. 
Throughout the whole book we are made to "see" 
as we read, which, by the way, is all the more neces- 
sary, as Mr. Daim (iibson's illustrations are curiously 

It would take a fairly rash man nowndnys to assert that 
love-making was "woman's whole existence," in face of her 
strenuous money-making, mueh thinking, and more writing. 
Poor Cupid is vote«l rather a luiisaneo, and gets a ]>atronizing 
indulgence where he usetl to find adoration. However, a large 
section of novelists jirefer to l)e blind to these signs of the times. 
Let writers seek inspiration in detective cases, slums, or the 
laltoratory, with never a hint of so much as a hand-pressure ; 
there is still the lost word to l>e said about love— and 
still 11 iTowd to listen. So they go on doggedly. And 
that is how books like Joiklvn, by John Sinjohn (Duck- 
worth, 6s.), and Chikflv Coxckkniso Two, by Alan 
Soott (Digby, Long, 2s. (kl.), come to be written. Jocelyn 
is an ex>juisito maiden, adored by Giles Legard. Giles 
is "weary" and "well-knit," and lias un invalid wife, 
and his love is returned by Jocelyn. We learn nothing further 
that is essential about either in the course of three hundred and 
nine (mges. A man called Nielsen exists for the purpose of 
niakinp intermittent love to Jocelyn. And the invalid wife exists 
to look on at uU this love-making, and finally, by the manner of 
her death, t<> make trouble between the lovers. Jocelyn has un 
aunt who conies near to having a character of her own, her age 
precluding her from rivalling Jocelyn, ami her sex from making 
love to her. This aunt is described as possessing " the dignity of 
the old Puritan stock," and " a lingering, su|ier8titious remnant 
of a Puritan eclucation." As she continues from that page 
onward to wear iiltrii smart Vionnots and to gamble at Monto 
Carlo, wo found it a little dillicult to lit her with the dcsiriiition. 
A pifjuant bit of character-drawing might have shown the two 
natures warring in such a woman ; as it is, the author loaves the 
Puritan liehind on page 24, as if conscious of the misfit. 
There is a flavour of singularly innocuous impropriety aliout 
the little book. It is meant to carry with it an atmosphere 
tense with passion ; hut somehow one's attitude towanls the 
lovers insists on remaining the kindly attitude of the invalid 
wife. Kven when Giles flings himself on the ground in his 
blackest moment, our impulse is to jxit him on the .shoulder and 
say, '• There, there ! don't you fret ul>out it; it will all end 
(juite nicely, in a little over a hun(lre<l imges." 

" Chiefly Concerning Two " lia.s for hero so contemptible a 
scoundrel tliat we resent the attempt made by the author to 
whitewash him a little, and show his actions to lie the inevitable 
outcome of temi>orament. One can excuse the man for making 
love to an unprotecte<l child like Enid Daunt, considering her 
urconceoled worship of him. Hut when he takes her abroad, 
get« tire<l of her and tells her so, no amount of "measureless 
symimtliy with all m.anifestations of the lioautifiil " will excuse 
hiin in the "Alan Scott " is very evidently a woman — 
probably a young woman- certainly a young writer. Only young 
writers when they want to say "The wish is father to the 
thought " put it this way :— 

It in Ml i-HiiriU prrruiisrity that sudirii-ntly riiiiri'iitrnt<'<l nieuUI 
visiiin, KU|i]>l>'ini'ntlii(( ingrniniiH »n>l iinilonif'l srguinriit, rBiiws a given 
|>oi|Hiiiitl<>ii to I'Vi'iiliially lUMMiim' tfii- i-oinpli'xiim ileslri'tl. 

It was to sentt'iiees like this that the brutal oilvice, " When 
y<iu think yon have written a specially fine passage, cut it out I " 
was meant U> apply. I'or the rest, lot " Alan Scott " choose 
somebody with whom it is |H>ssible for readers to sym]Nithi/.e, 
and try again. Wlistever a hero fe<ds, he must not talk to his 
lady-love like this : 

Yuu, poor rbilil, are bUmi-lcM. Your luve for iiu', brmkiiig in like 
B miiliti-n tum-nt im sbsolulo im-«iM-rinicc. )M-wilil<Ti'<l your bmiii, so 
Hint ttiin);> k|i)n'iri'<i to you otliir than tiny wi-re. Pniwion, imiteil to 
ignttnuict^ oiiii ■•iii'itv of n.-itiin-. plnVH till- |ittrt itf » iio|»hisi. . . Enid, 

AugUMt 0, 1898,] 



no moral law can In- auciTKafully rvail.'il, no n'»|Himiliility •liifltil, no 
trinpution yii-lilnl til, tint nooncr or Utir ooui'-a an hour of n-rkonioK. 
It i» an iinniiitnlilt' law , 

And HO (III for niiin (Mt^tm. His iinfortiinute I'niil mtiat buve 
folt likii tlio no(;n> who Biiid, "Joliii, ii 
and if you |iri-ii.'lirii, prfnclioi' ' Imt ii» !' 
at otico ! 

Admir('i"M ot' tin* irmt- :in>t ■^[niiiitii .1 imiii'iui iiiiit Mra, 

Katu Doii^'lus Wiggin hiia ahowii in her parlior v«>1uiih>», notably 
in " Mann Li8ii " and " A Ciithoilral (.'onrtship,"' will rend 
I'knki.iii-k's Exi'KRiKNCK IN NcoTLAND (titty aiid Hinl, :Ih. M.), 
her lnt<mt liook, with nonio disiipjiointmi'iit. Thoro i» abundance 
of livolinesH luid <|uiik ubwirviition, but tin- ctlort to Ikj con- 
sistently funny on ovory |>iij;o in fri'<|iiently woari.ioino. Wo 
cannot avoi<l niiikiiif; thia criticism, but it is plcnsantcr to prniso 
tho pri'tty and faithful doscription of tho vil'aj;o of Pottybiiw, 
whero Penolopu and hnr Amorican sistors uiak<> a stay during thuir 
tour through Scotland. Here thoro an- opportunitips for tho 
delinoation of certain familiar but ix'ronnially diverting types 
of Scotch character, of which Mrs. Wiggin avails herself with 
capital effect. 

TiiK LovK OK A KoiiMKH LiFK, by Cluirlos .1. H. Halcoinbo 
(•Tohn Long, 6s. >, as is explained in a preface, is tiasoil \ipon a 
theory. Tho theory is that people who fall in love at first sight 
are only renewing tho experiences of a previous existence ; and 
tho particular ])reviou8 exi>orience8 with which tho author dents 
took place in ancient Riinie. Mr. Hnlcoinbo has evidently hail 
access to a dictionary of anti(piities, and is to be congratulatod 
uiMHi tho diligent which ho has made of it. For example, 
we have a young girl recollecting her previous ex))erienceg in the 
Imperial City, and this is how she talks : — 

"T used to like to sit with other women in the amphitheatre, 
watching the contests, applauding the retiaiiHs as ho skilfully flung 
his not over tho <loome<l inii initio, or laughing at tho blind-folded 
aniiatHites frantically fighting in their huge eyeless helmets. With 
tho rest, I used to cry Jlubtt ! " 

This Sort of tiling is clearly instructive oven if it is not very amus- 
ing, and Mr. Halcombe gives us plenty of it. As, for example, 
" I must now part from you, as I have an engagement — Valt." 

The theme of An Kpi.toDK i.v Akl-aoy, by Halliwell SutclitTo 
(Pearson, 2s. 6d.), is not conspicuously original. It is the old 
story of young poojilo who have boon engaged over since they 
wore children, who bestow their affections elsewhere, when they 
grow up, and who are afraid of hurting each other's feelings by 
sjioaking the truth. Tho story may be tolil either as a tragedy 
or as a comedy. Mr. Halliwell Sutclitie tolls it as a comply, 
which is, >ipon the whole, the better way. There is nothing in 
his narrative to agree with, or differ from, or think out, or even 
remember ; but it ripples along ]>leasantly and might, with ad- 
vantage, l>6 read on a hot ilay in a hammock. The book is quite a 
short one, and is printed in large type. 

Fortunk'.<i Gate, by Alan Saint Aubyn (Chatto and Windus, 
Cs.), is ono of the many Ixioks which are fairly readable if 
they are not road too attentively. Tho plot practically <loC8 not 
exist. We have merely the story of a poor young man of humble 
origin who went up to Cambridge, got into a fast set, incunvd 
debts, and would have had to retire without a degree but for the 
opportiuie arrival of a well-to-do luicle who had raised himself 
by his t4ilents to the position of a colonial Bishop. There is also 
the usual love-making. The hero ultini.itely marries an adven- 
turess who has come to Cambridge fur the express purjxise of 
catching a rich husband, but has rcjx'uted and become a hospital 
nurse. Then, •• with the larger sight that a woman's love had 
given him, Andrew's old ideals came back to him," &c., which, 
in the circumstances, was absurd. The book, in short, is 
poor stuff looked at in its relation to the probabilities, or set 
beside the work of masters of the craft. On the other hand, the 
incidents are neatly strinig ttigether. and there are' pictures of 
the life at Nownham which ring true, and will satisfy those who 
are curious about " cocoas " and other features of social inter- 
course at that seat of learning. 

jfovcion Xcttcvs. 



.Notwithataniliug colonial and foreign ir»ni there haa ba«ll 
^'iiiio literary activity in Himin of late. St-Aor I'l-rex ISaldi'ia Hm 
b<i|(un to carry out the new serie* of hia national upiKMliMi. Tho 
first ha4l been in seme sort a revival of all the ; ' iiid 
favourite tales of the inde(i«ndunce war against t: of 

Napoleon, and an eijually ii  "ii in tin Juini i>f 

novels, of many historical :irly struggle* of 

,S|)anish progressists against FBrdnmnil Vll. Itetween tho first 
|«triotic Series and the new stage upon which he has starttMl, 
Pcro/. Cialdi'ts devot<-d his attention to iH)rtrjying (lopular lifa in 
the luimblest classes of society, and to sketchoa of life aixl jwr- 
sons that incroasu<l his well-earned fame. 

It remains to be seen if his latest oxcursiona into the annals 
of tho past will be as suco-ssful. Ho proposes to place before 
nuxlern Spaniards at the close of tho contnry a realistic and 
powerfully drawn sketch of the groat struggle twtween the Car- 
lists and tho Lib'rals during tho minority of tho Quwn laa- 
bolhi II. between the years ItfiW and 1842. The first volume of 
theso series has some actuality just when tlie whoT i is 

alarmed by rumours of ("arlist conspiracies and prei utr 

a third civil war. " Zumalacam giii " is not so much a ntcorcl 
of tho life and doings of the most famous Carlist loader of the 
seven years' war, as an intt resting picture of the ideas, habit*, 
customs of both Carlists and Is.ibcllinos at the time. (iaIdfW 
has once more shown that he excels in describing the feelings, 
the sayings, the doings, not only of the soldiery on Ijoth sides, 
but of the civil population, the bigotwl poasjintry devoted to 
Cnrlism, tho fnuatii-al priestr.oojl who were tho soul of the cause, 
the women, perhaps more sanguinary than their mates, the intri- 
guing and unscrupulous courtiers, sycopliants around tho Pre- 
tender, anil, towering above the henl, tho grand, stern, lofty- 
mindod soldier who had as much trouble in keeping in loaah tho 
followers of his prince as in out-mnn'euvring tho Lilwral generaU. 
Tho salient ]iersonages of this work are two priests — one who 
emlHtdies all the cunning, tho malice, the ambition so common 
in his cloth in this pnrt of Sjiain, and the other a humble 
visionary cra/.«I in his youth bv love for a wom^n totally un- 
worthy of such blind (uission. and then ovur fluctuating bc>tween 
his conscience ijiialnis, his love for fighting for " church and 
throne," his temporary tits of repentance and loathing of blood- 
shod and rapine, tho very tyi>e after all of the " cura caliecilla," 
the legendary priestly chief of guerillas that Spanish lairties 
have made excellent auxiliaries of in their civil wars. 

A distinguished artillery otiicur. Colonel Sanchis, who had 
ac({uire<I some notoriety as a writer of articles in reviews and 
Madrid iiewsiNiiwrs, and who ha<1 publishel a couple of years ago 
a rather spicy and liold volume of tales and anecdotes, has come 
out with a novel, " Isolda," that reveals some fine qualities. 
Isolda is the narrative of the adventure of a Miwlrileno to the 
backbone, ono of those typical characters that Don A'iconto 
Sanchis must have met by the dozen in salons, clulie, lobbies of 
the Cortes, cafes, theatres, boudoirs, in the very places whore 
he describes the part playcil by his hero with a vividness and 
realism that s]<eak for themselves. Tho heroine of this novel 
has much loss to say for herself and seems to l>c more a |>rotext 
for tho sceptical and rather advanced theories of the author when 
he attacks tho prejudices of Si>anish society. There are three 
or four remarkable chapters in this book, a fracas in the Coites, 
a duel in the neighl>ourhood of Madrid which ends fatally for 
ono of the coml>dtants and is tiie turning point in the story, and 
the very fine description of a gale on the coast of Biscay, at 
Biarritz, which affords a plausible opvKirtunity for tho cloae of 
this singiilar t«le. 

Dona Emilia Pardo Bozan haa sent forth her " Sixteenth " 
volume, " Los Cuentos de Amor," tales of love, in which she haa 
displayed her usual bright style and energy in forty short stories. 
In some she shows how tho point of honour, so dear even to the 
lowest classes in Sjiain, can lead a father, a hard-working artisan, 



[Augiist r>, 1808. 

to b«c«in« " an honoiirwt n-iminsl " wlin slays his own fomUy- 
lur»d tteughtar out <' in • mnniont of fury. 

In another tale »h» ov; .,1 joikloiiity ami |>aK8inn 

that alao make a criminal <>i . ViulaliiKiAn, Afra, ii|x>n 

who*- fair luatiir«a han^ over a: ~ a wcar>- i-x|iri'H«ion ot 

<li"- that addo Ut iivr ohariui nwl noarly uiiHliivctl nn 

ailii..... lu a fricntl caiitioiioil to hcwar«> of this iiiyKtcriixiR, 

aa<l Iteauty. (Hhor " ciieutos " aru loso drnmatic anil more 
oh- "  ' Tu« of pnivincial anil nii«lill<v-cla«a lif" in Simin. 

iKxw of l<i<rw-iok and All>a lias |>iililiKhi<<) wlitit ]iiir- 
port--- to U' only a ••utalogiip of llir oolluctioiis oxhibitod in tlio 
Liria Palaco nt Mndrid Tim I>iicliifM had provioiiKly i-iliUil a 
moat inturcsr ' In which Mu'liad jjivi'n the prin- 

cipal docunu -.of the house of Allwi, and lat<T 

on a volume containing autnj;raph» of ChristophiT rolumbiis. 
An example has thus Nn-n st't to tho noble fiimilieR of Spitin 
which might put at the ilisposal of students and historians much 
t<aln of gn*at value. The last volume of the Duohess of .\lln con- 
tain* comuientariea, biograpbical notes, extracts of documents 
drawn up with caro and much erudition. Tho illustrations 
of this " C'ataloj:>i« " give a correct idea of the remarkable col- 
Kn t ! in tho hall of " Las Vitrinas " in the Liria 

Pa;. iie than three huudriKl of the most imiwrtant 

documents are kept, ranging from the 11th to the I'th centu- 
riei. Among the documents ar»' Iett«'r8 from Mary Quocn of 
Soota, Henry YIl. of England, yuwn Elizalieth, Philip IL, Juan 
of Austria, and many S|«nish royal pttrsoiiages. The plates give 
an idea also of a ISible with lovely miniatures of the li'ith century, 
a mappa mundi ma<le in Goa by Vax Dourado, a ]K>rtrait of Mary 
Stuart, and otlier rare treasures. It is a great pity that the 
Duchess ha-s only published a limitol nunilx-r of copies of the 
catalogue for <listriuution araon^ her own acipiaintances. 

We lack siMice to devote projier attiMition to some rt>c«'nt 
books like Don Juan Valera's '• De varios colores," Ochoa's 
" Vn alma de Dios," Macia's " La tierra de campos," Ganivol'g 
" La conquista de Mio Cid." Don Victor Ralajinier, the veteran 
Catalan and Proveinal jioet and writer, never tires in his contri- 
butions to the regional literature of the north-c-ast of Spain, and 
hit example is being followed by aoTeral young Catalans and 
Valencians, eager promoters of the n-vival of the litt'ratiire and 
romance of the sunny provinces on the shores of the Mediter- 
ranean. The pi-ooccupations and spirit of the times have inspired 
not a few books and pamphlets lately on the Culian and Philip- 
pine questions ; foremost the book of General Polavieja, " My 
policj in f'libii," which de8er\'es sjiccial notice. 


The Camltinporary RerUif has a programme of remarkable 
Tariety. Among a good deal of theological and ecclesiastical 
matter there ia a ciirions little piece of history unearthed by 
Piofeaaor Sayoe al)out the village of Heckington, in Somersetshire, 
where tho cli ' '.-na were excommunitmt^-il in IC'JS for not 
settinir the ' n table " altarwise," as ordered by the 

Ej.i ■•rs 

>-4riplin«> of th<> RnKli.ih Church [condades the 
ProfeMiarj ui tlnv < ii«t to-dsy wrrr Oaslly inuulded, not hj the com- 
|MU>n of Um> sprond Prarrr-book nf Kdward VI.. the om of which never 
rxtanded bryood a f ' ~. but by CI thu exrommoDicated 

aad impriaoard thr I sltar* > ticki, who drove the 

■pihtual fnrrfatbrra m -:><'licsl miivi i nuai titeir pulpit* and 

paririMS, sod who etm, wbilr rniiased in Ihi- reriiion of the IVayrr- 

baok, iatradii'-' ' •'- <■-- ' • •'•■ '•'<the<ln<li< Mid Chspi-l 

Koyal. We n x Church of Knelitnd 

is •« littk itit . „. . - -.. . _ J. crs, and is not always 

iBtrlliciM* rTra to tiipfn. 

Mr. A. L. Cotton sings tite praises of the " Kelinacott PreM and 
the new printing." It is curious -and characti-ristic of the new 
novaiiient that he writ«a of the Kelniscott printing solely as a 
work of art in it*k-lf. The question of easy legibility or of the 
Bui< > tlte niattvr pnntwl d'x-s not coinn 

Wd. |H<oplv wlw are told tJiat the old art 

of printing has only revived " within the present decade " would 
ratlier. we fancy, have clear, delicate, line ty]w, such as, tor 
instance, waH ust^l more than half a ci>nturv ago in the early 
Tennysons, or as ap|Mtare«l on a larger scale in Mr. Lang's trans- 
lation of " I'he Miracb-H of Madanio Siiint Katlierine of b'ier- 
liois," as to which Mr. dittxin says, " Were it not for thi< typo, 
which is American, the volume wouhl Ix- an exci'ptionally lieauti- 
ful 8|>ecimen of preas work." 

Trmi'lr lUir has as usual one or two liighlj' interesting 
literary articles. Mr. Horlnirt Sauilers recalls pleasantly tlu) 
jKietry of Thomas Carow, and Mr. Alf Diploi'k gives a just and 
instructive estimate of Pierre Loti and his writings, the note of 
which ho deK(.:ril>es as " pessimism softened to a musical melan- 
choly." We can commend, too, a timely article called " My 
Cigar," which gives us a well-inforiiie<l description of the Cuban 
cigar industry. We trust that an American Prot<'ct.orate will not 
tend to im|>air the skill of the Cuban tolmcco farmer or voguero. 
(hie of the muxt extraordinnry thiiiK" in nature in the Cuban 
%'egucro'N iniitinrt in the auginenting or diminishini; the niildnpsn or tlia 
xtrength of bin t<i)Hi<'CO. CiilianK claim it to Ik- a biri'ditary iimiKht with 
which no an|uircil akill can compete. Certain it ia that the .\inericana, 
and the ooraitional Kn>nc-hiiian nr Kn^liahman who, after leaminir 
t«hacco-growing for years, liave tried the vega a« an ioveKtnieiit, have, 
without exreptieu, come to jrief over thi« all-imjiortaiit dftail. 'I'he 
fiDgeni of the Cu1«no lu'em to divine the biidn he mnnt take off t<i limit 
the increaae or hfiftht of the ]ilunt. the exact touchen of trimming that 
will produce the |)roper quantity ami quality iif leaves. 

Mr. Riumer Williams gives in Hlackyrinxl' » some hitherto un- 
published letters of Soiithey ranging over the peniMl from his 
se<-ond visit to Portugal to tho death of his first wife in ISJ". 
The published conesiiondence of Soutliey is alieady vt^ry volu- 
minous, and these letters, which are addressed to John May, 
contain little critical or literary matter, but they are of interest 
as further revealing the Rue qualities of Soutliey, and they deal 
largely with the financial side of his literary work. Reviewing 
his position in 1801, he says : — 

lloantime, I <-an review. I can write rhymes to the amount of a 
hundre<l pounds, but this is ini)>ravident work. It ia npt-nding the day i n 
netting only enough for the <linnpr. 

Another writer has a goo<l subject in " Smollett and the Old Sea 
Dogs," and Sir Herbert Maxwell continues his ent(>rtaining 
rambles among " Odd Volumes." 

The OomhiU, despite its three historical articles, is lighter 
in hand. Dr. Todhunter, following Mr. Leslie Stephen, who 
once saiil that the Dictionary of National Biography was amusing 
reailing, finds matter for a go.ssipy article on Dr. Murray's 
Dictionary, that " huge book extensive as a jungle anil well 
arrangwl as a botiinic garden." 

All who desire to become acquainted with the true character 
of the "new woman" should consult ".Sarah Grand's" article on 
" Tho New Woman and the Old " in the August number of the 
Lnilil's Feahn. 

The New Woman [it appeam] i« magnaiiilnoua by nature 
she has won the great heart of the people . . . she ia well endowt^d. 
Her health in radiant, her manners charming, her wit taking, her murals 
unimix-nehable . . . her sense of humour is always on the alert . . . 
sIh- ia a well-balanced creature . . . she means to banish the l>nite 
(in man]. 

One is glad to hoar it, but one would like to know why, with all 
these virtues, the New Woman finds it impossible to write 
English. Hero is an illustrative sentence from the same article : — 
!:>bp objiH-ts to ih<? cowardliness which will trade u|Min a young, ill- 
educatwl girl's indolrncr, liive of luxury, and mistaken notions of life ; 
who knows her nature while she herself is kept in ignorance uf it, and 
uM-s his knowledge to d»'grade her. 

She is, no doubt, a rare and radiant creature, but her grammar 
is primitive. ^___^^^^^_^___^__ 


Dn. Joiix ('aihD, late Princi|ial of Glasgow I'niversity, 
who has died at the age of TM, was not a great writer, but 
during a long pastoral career at Edinburgh, nt Errol in Perth- 
shire, and at (ilasgow, he cstabliHheil his reputation as the first 
of Scotch pruiK-liers. Like his brother, the Master of Balliolf 

August G, 1898.] 



iliK 1'u.Ht iif hid mirut Ind him to th« pnrauit of shstract 
thiiii^'lit riktiinr tliiiii to milijot'lB mu^li im liiatory or liililicul 
iix[H>8itioii. wliii'h K'liil tlii^iiiHiilvi'M, iMoio tliiiii iiii'tniOi_vii"''(, to 
tln> prmtii'i' of book iimkiiif;. Hin " liitro<lii<'tloii to tin' 
riiilo'fopliy of Rill'loii," jiiililiHiiixl in IH.><(). wim a iim.'4t«Tly 
iix|H>Nitinn of II III, l>iit cmi linnlly Ixt rtickoiiml 

nil iiii|Mirtaiit <" "n t« p)iiloHO|iliii'Hl tlioiiglit. Min 

NtiriiioiiH w»ro of II tyi>u which, unliko tlnmo of Kviiii);<'li>iil 
iliviiii'N, noliloin aehiovun wide populurity, itnil linilii far fxucr 
ri'pri'soiitativnii thini tho iiiori< lU'Votioiml iin<l Scriptiiriil din- 
coiirso. Tlicy wiTK lii^hly intt'lli-ctuiil, Boini'tiiiii-ii too miinh »o 
for hiH hi'iirom ; but thoir I'li-vation of ton ' of viow, 

not to moiition bin oxrt'llont voico and il i 'r. Caird 

11 ooniiiiaiidiiii; |MiHition un a pri'iiolii<r aim miiimi i lU • iliui{;ow. 
This wuN, no doubt, dnt> to tbo fiii't tbiit bu was not nolnly 
aeiidi'iiiio, Imt hail ii renl, prnotionl «ympatby witli his fcibiw- 
mcn, an wnn shown in what is |M>rhni>.H tlio bi'st known of bin 
Hrrinons, " H(di>,'ioii in Oommoii liifn, ' print«'<l by ooninmiid of 
the Viii'Bn, nnd wiib^ly oircidatod both brrr and abroad. In 
18T:< hu Ix-caiiio Principal of (ibingow I nivemity. and his annual 
iiddrnNHofi wi'Ht i('j;ardod as tn'tintx of urnat inttdlootual intureat. 
The bi'st known ot tlumi in that on " Thti I'nity of tlioScifinx'S," 
]>iibli!<luid in 1874. He bflon;!«d to the Kroad Cburcli party in 
tho Scotch ('lunch, and rnntributod largely to a voliimi> of " Scotch 
SiirmonN." cdit.'d by Professor Kniplit in 1880, which «mbodi«d 
tho viows of that party. In IHKS be publishod a voliimo on 
Spinoza in Mu.ssrs. BUckwood'n sorioa of Philonophical ClassiuH 
for English readers. 






- ■♦- - 



Sir, — Being engngcd .loine time ago in the investigation 
of old Turkish literary nionument.i in order to ascertain 
the j)t'ciiliaritip.>i of the Ottoman-Turkish language in 
hygone ages, I made a discovery which may interest 
Shakesjiearian sclioiars and the Knglish puhlic in par- 
ticular. In a manuscript entitled " Feredj baad esh 
Shidde " (viz., " Recreation after Hanlshij) "), and bearing 
the date Adrianople, 14;>1 (8.)0 Hijra), there are forty- 
two tales, jiiirtly fairy tales, jiartly historical anecdotes, 
and amongst tliese the thirty-eightli tale treats the adven- 
ture of a .lew with a .Mohammedan, of which I give the 
following — as nearly as iKj.s.sil)le literal — translation: — 

It is rolat<Hl that a Jew and a Moslem lived in nei^hboiir- 
hoo<l. Tlio .Jew was oftoii trnnblod tbrun^h tho poverty of tho 
Moslem, anil one day the latter caino to liini, saying, " I want 
a biindred diniirs, what porcontajjo shall I j^ive to you ? " The 
.Jew answered, " I do not want any perci'nta^;e ; you may keep 
it for yourself. Hut if you will not repay my money after tho of a year I shall cut one pound of Mesh from your Ixwiy, 
of which part I like." The Moslem, hearing this pro|Kisiil, was 
afraiil, and went away. After another year tho situation of the 
Moslem was at;;;ravated. Uea^ain went to tho Jew an<l said, '• If 
you lend me tliemoin«y I am ready to accept yi>ur proposal." Where- 
uiion the Jew handed over the demande<l sum in tho presence of 
a bundicHl and ISIoslom When the term bad 
expiri'd the .lew claimed his money, but this having; be«>n spent 
and the debtor beiiii; unable to pay, the Jew maiiitjiinin^ his 
rif;bt. they wont ti> tbe judye, who .said, " Obi ij;ation rules tho 
matter," anil ordered tbe Mo.sK'ui to submit. l)i.sKati.stied with 
this Verdict, tho .Moslem tried two other Kadis, «bo i;avi' tho 
saiuo jud^nieiit, ami tho Moslem beiut; :4;ain unwilling to 
submit, tlicy at hL-^t went to tbo then famous Kadi of Homs, 
whom the Jew addres.seil in the following words : — " 1 claim 
from this Mohammedan one hundred dinars, and besides, tho 
permission to c\it out from liis biMly. wherever I like, one p<iund 
of tlosb — I can testify my rijiht by tbo witne.saes present." 
The Kadi, after haviii'' askisl tbo Moslem whether the Jew had 
said till- truth and the former answering in tho athrmative, 
found tbo matter rather a didicato oiip, and or<lertHl his .servant 
t<t bring a sharp knife. Tho Moslem, much afraid, ti'emblo<l 
like a leaf, and tbo Kadi, turning towards tho .low, said. 
" Now' I take out from tho Ixwly of this man one pound of 
tlosb, but beware I if tbe slightest diirerence Ik- founil, I sliall order 
your execution at once." The Jew, on bearing this, got very 
much frighteninl, and saiil : — " My loril I it is not in my 
jH^wer to cut out oxactlv oiio intniui. it is verv r>ossil>l«» tli:it 

you pro|io*«. ^ uu have to iMit < 

any case, or you iiiiiat \»y a i 

Voii cannot roiioiinco, or it . 

voii have entorthl into." In 

Wl to [my, lint clMiiioncy bad it« wuv, .tnd 

hu was aci|uitt4'd with two biiiidr»<i ilirm 





down and was diHcbargisI in n . m. 

The work referred !■ linn of the 

Persian original, which was written in the I • of 

the fourteenth century ; and u.<i the Italians, p.. m. ....uly 
the Venetians and Genoese, entertaineil a steady and a 
fre(|uent coinmunicatiim with Wester ' '  that tinu*, 
it is very prohahle that they had tra d that tale 

into their literature, and tliat Shakeh|M'are has borrowed 
it thert'lVotn, like iiKinv iiilii-r toiiirs ii»-il in his ininnirlul 

1 IS';; Id riMiiniii \otir> uiiedipntlv. 


Miihlbach, Pusterthal, Tirol, 1898. 



Sir, — To the real regret of our plny-lovins; public, that 
accomplished and able actor, M. Cixpielin. has loft I..oiidon for a 
time and has ceaso<t to delight im with his Cifiano ; but we itill 
retain M. Kostand, in print ; and the present seems a suitable 
op[)ortunity to count our gains — or losses — in c<mnexion with 
r.Vniiio as an acting play I am glad to see that Dr. Althaiis 
enters a vigorous protest in your culiimns against such a state- 
ment OS '* that even Shaksiieare has not given us a hero who 
appeals to us as Cyrano." In admiring M. Kostand up to his 
full value, it is better to omit all c<im|<aris<ms with the author 
of lliimtft. 

Wo reml tho play before it was played in London with 
wonder anil with pleasiiro ; but tho ipiestion, •• How it would 
act," remained a problem of some little difliculty. The result of 
witnessing the iierformancc would seem to !« that the clianning 
play does not gain by representation. Its tiiorits are perhajia 
literary rather than dramatic : it is a work which it is liotter to 
rca<l than to see. The cast of the piece, always with the excep- 
i tion of the Messieurs Coijuelin. was si-arcely so good as we might 
have ex|ieit<sl from a coinjxiny coming direct from Paris. For 
I in.stanco. tho Christian was not fcrmi ; tho Carlion de Castel- 
.lalonx was hardly n ;,'n!lnnt (tascon cnt>taiii : while some of the 
noble youths in hi y mon< r^ s or l«ndit8 

than those young ' t mmlrni' who wer- the 

real emlrlf lir itn.vininf ; de Oiiicho was not ijuite the haughty, 
un.scnipiilons, intriguing noble who had wwhied a niece of 
Richelieu : while the lady did not absolutely renliKe the lloxane 
of our dreams and fancies. I^e Hret was very goixl, and M. Jean 
CiM|iielin rondereil ailmirably that goiwl jiastryi-ook and bad I>oet, 

Of that fapwrin let no w^rrl In> said here. The great 
CiKinelin himself, always a in comedy, able to glorify 

oven low comedy, declaimin. . verse to |,erfe<-tion, is not 

i(uito so distinctively great in tho more heroic or |iathetir |>aasagp9 
of the nolilo character. Of French verse Tliackoray says, '* An 
Englisbmnn will seldom reconcile himself to tho nmlmtrtit of the 
verses, and the {ninful reoiirrence of the rhymes ; for my |iart, I 
had rather go to Madame Saqiii's or sec Deburan dam-ing on » 
roiH) : his lines are ipiito as natural and |>n«tical." 

At tho opening of the play, in ItVIO, Cyrano is twenty years 
of age ; young, a«-tive, strong, and a mat. 'ut 

M. Coquelin. es|XH'ially when roganlod fi. ^ to 

us a short, stout, robust figure which somewhat re«emblos Mr. 
Seymour Lucas' ailmiraMe picture of Sir Frumis T'r;!!..., nnd 



[August G, 1898. 

UMr«fdr« doM not qaite look the pvi. Cynuio ■>>■• of himself 
that be ia 

Elegant eaaoM CeUdou, 

Afila rommc Scaramooebe; 

lu : .:.■ «.i-, ii.' .I.iubt, gnceful, i>von slij^ht of tiguro. Cj-ntiio ia 
t!u- •ulv .'li.iia, ut that wiwra • nitf round thu luK-k. In the time 
ol ' ' T rulfa had cv*«u(l to Iw worn in Knjiluiul : but it is 

pi'- the fMhiou may have lingurwl latt-r in Paris. If 

thia U ! not som« of tlutothor d^ Iso have worn 

ruffs? wc come to the Imnn. n of tlie none 

worn by M. ' trous nosu ts a tvtrililo t(>m]ita- 

Uon to an a< •. ^ ■. low come«ly ; and the noao in 

which M. ('<H]ueliu imlulgo* ia, indee«l -esj-oi'iftlly seon in jirolilo 
— ft de{>raTed monstrosity, is one which might lie lK>rne on thu 
TiMgea of Launcvlot Uolilio, or Snout, the tinker. " Caricature 
is not n«c«saarily mi*lt>adiiig ; without a touch of exaggeration it 
is often imiMMwihle to o«nivey a true impression " ; but such a 
oaricktuTD a* the nose worn by Cotpielin is an exaggeration whicli 
tcMMcends true art in a romantic drama. The |H.rtrait given of 
Cyrano in his " (Kuvrea " ahows a nose large, long, heavy, un- 
lovely, but not cummonplace or wantonly coinic. The grutes()uc, 
even, need not descend tu the contem|itibly funny. The writer 
in the " Biographie L'niversellu " asserts that the unduly- 
developed nose of Cyrano was the result of a swonl-slash received 
in one of his numerous duela ; but the nose of a httlafre, though 
it might be grim, joyless, terrible, would not lie vulgarly 
ludicroua. The only art object is to awar<l to CjTano such a 
morbid feature as might show some cause for the obstinate 
blindness of delicate Koxane towards his wit an<l worth. The 
ridiculous is more dangeroiu to the heroic in romantic art than 
is the terrible, or even the forbulding. M. Hostand may have 
somewhat e.\aggeratod his Cyrano's cartilage ; but M. Coijuelin 
sorely trum|<a any exaggeration on the imrt of the dramatist. 
Could not a more human nose — for a hero — t>o tried in the gruiit 
part T The result would surely In joyous. 

One word alwut the rendering of the fifth act, which, as it 
■eemed to me, faile«l lurtly of its elfect. llie ]iatho8 which 
move* OS so deeply in reading the scene is not found in the 
rapraaeutation of it. Cyrano enters, stricken to death, and ia, 
throughout the act, a consciously dying man ; but yet M. 
Coquelin 8|N»ks with as strong a voice and is as full of vigour 
as he was in the sc<-nes in which CjTano was in full health and 
haughty courage. 

Again, after fifteen years of such heroic sacrifice, of such 
unexampled loyalty and truth, would not CjTano have been more 
moved by Roxane's discovery of his devoted love, and by her — 
Je voas mime ; vivec '. 

He thinks mainly in his last moments of his old enemies, It 
Mtnaongt, U* Cumpromit, lej I'tijtigi*, Its LdchcUt, la Sottise, 
and strikes at them with the sword, a sword failing, as did that 
of Othello in his terrible last act. But would not dying Cyrano 
think rather of the love won at last— too late — of the woman so 
long a<lore<i, so wildly worshipixxl ? Roxane's love woiUd have 
stirred the last beats of that unselfish, that noble heart. Cyrano 
was but fire and thirty, ami his last thoughts and feelings would 
be for bis sword and for bis love. 

I am. Sir, your obe<lient servant. 



Sir, — Is not the discussion on Tolstoi's views on art some- 
what futile on its in-csent basis ? It appears to me by a simple 
poueas of inductive logic wo may arrive at a clear statement of 
th* eaM for both sides. Broadly speaking, the controversialists 
are nuiged into two opposite camps, those (yourself among thoni) 
who treat Tolstoi, considere^l as an art ci itic, as a mere fanatic ; 
and thoae who believe with Mr. Hpiolmann that in spite of apparent 
contra<lictions, there is the germ of correct vision, otherwise 
simple truth, in what he says. 

In the first place, then, what is the ultimate standard by 
 birh UK ar.- to say what is true or false art ? In this liea the 

kernel of the whole question. One side says " art is purely 
objective ; it apjieul to the intelleitual side of my natiiro 
which alone guides my aesthetic sense ; unless this is satisfied 
art cannot exist." What, on the other hand, does Tolstoi say ? 
" It must reflect in some degree the charai-ter of Ci0<l as revealed 
to my inner iiiornl sense in the person of Christ ; there is no 
art in whii'h I cannot disi-ern some hidden reference to this con- 
nexion of mon with the Gotllieatl." Hero then we luivo t«o 
distinct starting points, divergent and irreconcilable ; all 
attempts to establish a conunon IxiNis f<iil at tlie outset. But it 
is easy to understand from this jioiiit of view how a " crude and 
iiuirtistic attempt " nioy contain a deejnr meaning than a pagan 
mast«TpiiH;e which has enthralled tho world for centuries. Because 
in spite of Christianity the human mind is essentially jiugun, 
and thu latent form of immorality which exists, UMe M. 
Brunetitre, in all " true " art, is tile key to that fascination 
which the aco<-pted standard, even in decadent form, holds and 
has ever held over mankind. 

Yours faithfully, 

Brussels, July 31. 



Sir,— In the numlM>r of I.iternture Ix'aring to-day 'a dato Mr. 
Arnold Haultain suggests that in j-oiir pages men severally 
eminent on various artistic lines should air their opinions as to 
why certain artists endure — live. May one of the niony unknown, 
one of the " men in the street " — woman in this case —express 
her ignorance on the subject ? Self expression is, in one form or 
other, the keynote of life. Tho artist who expresses a self of 
sufficient int^Test in a sutliciently interesting manner lives, but 
not always or cvt-n generally by tho applause of the many. Tl)o 
mere fact of his Wing interesting enoiigh to live shows that ho 
stands aliovu tho many, has something to tell of that is larger 
than the many. Shak(.'S[M!aru lives, so <l(>es Dante ; art! either of 
them as mnch read as any popular author of his little day who 
now is and to-morrow is not ? Is Rossini alive in the same si^nsu 
OS Beethoven ? And why not ? Your contributor ipioted in tho 
letter is right. Neitlicr the philosophy, morality, nor science of 
an author or other artist constitutes his vital power, but the self 
he has to express combine*! with his technical |)ower of expressing 
it. Nor is it the morality of the self, nor its intellectuality, that 
ensures endurance, rather its power, its strength, its truth to 
that higher ideAl of the race that each generation strives for as 
unconsciously as the cotyledon strives towanls the light, the 
child towards thu birth. If this theory contradicts Tolstoi and 
perhaps Ruskin also, it explains why such various writ<!rs as 
Shakespeare anil Herrick, Ralielals and Racine, Goethe and 
Leasing, Dante and Cervant<^s have stood the test of time. 
Yours faithfully, 


Glasgow, July 30. 



Sir, -In the article in '• Among my Books," by Mr. Sharp, on 
Italian translations of Walt Whitman, in your issue of July 2, he 
remarks ujxm tho poet's use of the word " carhicue," that he 
has " nut the remotest idea " as to what the word means, and 
ailmits that it suggests to him an apprehensive thought of the 
fabulous and mysterious Snark. I beg to say that our American 
dictionaries, and a common usage —at least in eastern Pennsyl- 
\'ania — recognize tnrlytxu, and that the other wonl is a variant 
of this. Webster spells it curlijrHc ; the Century Dictionary 
cuflicuf. Webster <lufinej( it as " sonuithing curlwl or spiral, os 
a flourish ma<1e with a pen on pajier, or with skates on tho ice," 
says it is " colUxjuial U.S.," and adds that it is "sometimes 
written ' car lacue,' " as in Whitman. Tho Century says it is 
" sometimes written mrliqur, but iHsttor ftir/icii«— i.e., curly me, 
curly Q, in allusion to tho curled or s]iiral forms of this letter." 

August (',, 1898.] 



It (lulinea the word M " ■omothitiK fmitiuitically curled or 
twiHtod : III to mako a eurlU'ue. with tho jwii ; to cut rnrlKues in 
KkatiiiK." ""il '"I'lt thiit it ia " collcxiuial." 

Porhiipa it miiy bo supgimtoil that the last syllable —the firtt 
two lioiriK pluirily from ibo woiil cuWy— may be from i/u«ur, 
riithor tlitiii tlio luttcir Q. 

l'hila<loii.hiii, U.S.A.. 

ICJl, Arch-stroot, .Inly l:i. 


In iii'Xt wiic'k's lAtirnhiie " AiiKHip My \l,»,\ift " will l« 
writtt-n by MinH Agnes Clcrki', tlm w«'ll-knnwn a«tr..noni.r, who 
Imn plinsnn •' Soientilic Women " for hor nubjitct. Tho niuiio 
niinib<<r will <-oiitniii n piu.m by Mr. William Wilfrid Cnmpbi'll, 
anil Mr. Hnlmt-Honman's story, which bt-gins in this number, 
will 1)11 coiicliulod. 

* * * » 

Mr. D. G. Hoirnrth, tho Director of tho British School 
of Archajology at Athens, is editing a collection of essays 
by various hands dcsignod to summarize tho contributioiia 
miwlo to knowlodpo by arch.colofiy in this century. His oli- 
ject is, more particularly, to show how far the views of 
loading rocopuiy.ed niitlioritie.s have lioen confirmed or modi- 
tied. Dr. S, R. Driver. Regius Profos.sor of Hebrew nt (»x ford, 
fakes tho Old Testament: Mr. F. LI. Grillith. formerly of the 
Hritish Mu.'io\im. takes Kgyjitology and Assyriology. in thc-ir 
relation to profane history; Mr. Hogarth himself "deals with 
Greece, prehistoric and classical : Mr. K. Haverficld, of Christ 
Church, will write of Rome and Latin literature and archieology ; 
and tho R<-v. A. C. Hendhim, of All Souls, will treat of tho New 
Testament an<l Christian anti(|uitic.s. Tho work will ]>rolmbly bo 
ready by the coming winter, and will bo published by Mr. 
John Murray. Mr. Hogarth has also in hand a volume for a 
geographical series, to lio editd by Mr. H. J. Mackinilor, and 
publisho.1 by Mr. Heinemsun. M. Kliseo Rcclus take.< the Western 
Mediterranean ; Mr. Hogarth is writing of tho eastern, with 
all its sin-roundiiig lands from the Balkans to the Sudan, and also 
(iroeco tt. Persia. 'Jlio rost of tho worl.l has been apfwrtioned to 
various well-known writers, Knglish and foreign. Tho volume 
will not apjioar for about a year. Mr. Hogarth's archicological 
reports, os|iocially on the Molian discoveries of this spring, 
keep him busily employed : but as an undertaking of tho future 
ho has in view a history of the Macedonian Con<iuest of Asia, 
treBt«<<l as one episo<lo in the eternal Plast v. West str\igglo ; and 
ho hopes also to collect in another volume further reflections on 
tho Dobatoablo Land in that struggle, and the r.icos which have 
peopled it, supplementing with tho light of more mature ex|icri- 
ence his " Wandering Scholar in the Levant." 

• »  * 

A new volume of poems by Mr. F. B. Money Coutts, whoso 
work, entitled "Tho Revelation of St. Love the Divine," was 
recently reviewed in our columns, will Iw published during the 
autumn. It will contain a new version of the famous Uillad of 
"The Nut-brown Maid," and will lie dedicateil to Mr. Oscar 

 *   « 

Mr. Demetrius B<nilger has been engaged for the last six 
niontlis on a history of the ftuniding of tho Congo Sute and of 
the growth of civilization in Central Africa under its auspices 
during the last twelve years. The work, which will be 
handsomely illiLstrated, will lie publishe<l early in the autumn 
by Mcssr.s. W. Thacker. 

» *   

General Sir William Butler is writing a life of the late Sir 
George Pomcroy ColK-y, who was killed in 1881 at the Imttle of 
Majuba-hill. The work will 1h" publisheil by Murray. 

  * • 

Lord Ashbourne has finisho<l a work upon Pitt, which 
has occupied his leisure hours for several years past. ITie book 

will lie publlshe<l in tho autumn hj Moaara. Lonipiuiu untlar Urn 
title " Pitt ; Some Chapters of his Life and Timaa." 
• « • • 

We leriew elsewhere throe works on fVandinavian «ft«l trm. 
landic legend. The •• ' r««r«<l, h.i 

from Knt'lisb ••■holai •<(-rrf<i. I 

I' • ■:ts in till :,.!•.! tllB 

e^ by the I r ,;,. >, t,..ol of 

KngiiNh Literature at Oxford, in which tho philology and litera- 
ture of the Teutonic languages form an int<-gTttl pert of the 
achome. It ii a curious fact that in Kngland of all place* Ui« 
facilities offorc<l to those whcio inclinations liut'twanl* northern 
studies are the moat primitive. Probably when the time arrirvs 
for the founding of mmio such series a ' real 

Bibliothek " we shall hai-e ad<!<pinte ti .igaa 

and lore of our scafariue kinsmen. At piewnl tJu* latiours of 
Professor Napier, York Powell, Wright, Ker. and other 
" S|>ecialists " 80<'m to avail little in |opularizii: .ct. 

The <lelegat<'S of the Clarendon Press have under lion 

a pro) 0!>al for tho publishing of a smaller Icelandic ilicti''iuU7- 
which shall be moro than a rfrumi of Vigfusson and Cleasby'a 
coRtlywork. Dr. Jdn Stefansson, who holds a brief for Icelandic 
afl'airs in Londcm, has lioen at work for some years on tho 
proposwl dictionary, and he intends to ext4>nd ita reference to 
Icelanilic of both ancient and mo.k>ru ]ierio<ls. The work would 
l>e a Ihiou to many who cannot affonl the high priw of tho 
present dictionary, and it will bring honu- forcibly the continuity 
of the language in which the storiea of Grottir an<l of Olaf 
Oryggvason wore WTitten. 

•  • » 

The author of the K'linlntiijh article on " Aristotle's Theory 
of Poetry and Fine .\rt "—a subject which we have already treat'-d 
in the cohimns of /yi7ciyiM(r>'- ol>serveK very truly that : — 

Tlie rireekfi had not enly iin art ibffen'nt in ib-tniln from num. but 
wen-, iwyrhologii-nlly. liy no m.-nnH ixiu-tly likr onrwlven. Men- highly 
civilitcd than we, in certain wayn, the Kiirriral of their reliipon, with iU 
ronM'rvntisni of rite* ami falih'H derivi.*] din-etly from the nvage utalc, 
lift tliini nearer than we to t\w primitive ixyrhie^l eoiMliliim. 

Tlie |H«int is important, b\it th<' author hanlly Mngs otit 
thi^ corollary that all |H.etry and fine art is the pn-lui-t of this 
" primitive psychical comlitioii," to which tho writ<'r ..r |ieint<!r 
must even now return if ho woiiM do the vory liest work. Other 
articles in a very interesting nundier are "Fairy Tales aa 
Literature "—an able account of the maiiiiur in which the fairies 
"went to ccmrt" in the 17th and 18th centuries the " K»tI 
Bishop of Derry," which treats of the singular, splendid, and 
disreputable career of Fre<leriek Hervoy ; awl the "Dining 
Societies of London," an essay on the Society of Dilettanti, 
The Club, Nobo<ly'B Club, the Lit<trarv Society, and Grillion's 

« • • • 

A poem by Mr. Ambrose Bierce. who was well known in 
Lonilon some years ago. recently appearctl in the .'^an Francisco 
Xj-ii miner, and deserves, it .seems to us. to l>e introducetl to readers 
in Knglar.d. wh« n. it has not hithert') been publishe<l. It may be 
describeil as a Kind of American " Recessional." and was, we 
believe, originally written by re<jne»t for a civic ceremony at 
San Francisco. Tlie Civic Fathers foiiml it too frank and 
cancello<l the order. Tlien it apjiearwl in the Examiner. After 
an invocation to the " Goddess of LiU-rty "— 

Before whose nhrinn the rarrs prean, 
'ITiy p»-rf<>cl favour to implore 
(The proudest tyrant a«k» no more, 
'ITie ironed Anarrhitt no less. - 

Whose altar coal* that tourb the lijia 
Of piophct> kio.lle. too. thr 1 rmnd 
By Discord iIuiib with wanton hand 
Anion^ the hotiat'S ajid the sbipa. 
—the Jioem proceeds : — 

God of my couotrr and my race I 
So greater than the gods of old— 
So fairer than the proptieU told 
Who dimly saw and feaml thy face— 


i.iti:rat( RE. 

[Augfust (5, 1898. 

. Wke Jitbl bvi half r«v««l thf will. 
Jtmd giiiuM cBda, to ihmr daaire. 
Behind the ahwn't atlraartBH fir* 
Thy tastier <l»y-l4auu vciliox itill. 

To wheal the imramiinit auoa hehxix 
And dasl 'iiie<|iraiic« ; 

To who>" '- MlllM 

The DMHUI 10 :<^itli- I null th« «oni;. 

Whoa* Uwf. inrpprfect uxl uujiut. 
Thy JB«< und |>err«><-t |iarp<>M> aenre ; 
The Be»Up. hmrno'rr it mwprre, 
Still wamatioc th* uilor's trust. 

Itod, lift Thy han4 and malie D» frre. 
Perfect the work Tlinu haxt (lp*t|;op<l. 
1) itrika any the cbaiiM that bind 
Oar aoala to oar i<lalatry. 

• • • « 

For tho inft of lilicrty thi- poi-t roinlora thatikn, but hu rocog- 
aiaaa that it ia " • imcfnl, m>t a RacnMl, rny '' : — 
O givp  mora or leaa, aa we 
Shall »em the rif bt or avrre the wtoo(. 
OonOcoi oar freedom but ao Ioqk 
Aa we are worthy to l« frep. 

But when (O diaUnt he the time !) 
Majorities in |>a«ion draw 
Inturgcot HKordi to nmnler law 
And all tbn land ii rr<l wth crime, 

Or— nearer menace — when the l>and 
Of feeMe iipirits cringe and plead 
To the (jipantic strength of K'^'d, 
And fawn u|>oii bi* iron band : 

Kay, when the itepa to power are worn 
In hollowa by the fret of tbievea. 
And Mammon aita anions the aheavea. 
And chuckles while tl.o reaper* mourn — 

Then atay Thy miracle ! replace 
'l°hc liroken throne, repair the chain. 
Restore the interru|>t7<l reign 
And reil a|[ain Tbr patient face. 

Lo ! here upon the world's extreme 
We stand wiib lifte<l arms and dare 
By Thine eternal name to swear 
Our country, which so fair we deem — 

I'poo whose hills— a bannered throng — 
The spirits of the dawn display 
Their ffaubing lances all the day 
.\nd hear the sea's pacitir song — 

Khali be so ruled in rieht and gra<« 
'fhat m<*n shall say : " O drive aHeld 
lilt! lawlt«ii vaxle from the shield 
And call aa angel to the place. ' ' 

•   * 

lira. Mar(!arot Dcland, the author of " John Ward, 
Preacher," ami many other succi-nRful bnokii, i» at pn-smt rea<1- 
ing the pniofa for a collection in Invik form of the skidchua 
entitle'*? " oi ' '•• '.-r Talc*," now ln-iiig pn1iIiHh»I BiTially 
\n Ilnrfifr't " Thin n-viwd volume will later lie jshikmI 

hy Mueani. Haijai.t in Aiinn-ica an<l .Mi-H.srH. LongmaiiR in 


• • • • 

The auciwM in London of Mr. d-orgo W. Calilo as a reader 
from hi* own atoriea liaa greatly pleaM'd hia admirers in the 
Unitetl Ktatea and is likely Vt enconrngu other Anierican authors 
who read from their worka nrol tempt fortune in Kii;:luiicl. For 
the paat ten years authors' - ' ' n very |><>pnliir in 

America whert- tiiere is a ^: ••«t in writ«Ts, and 

everal ' have luto - r incomes on 

h« plat •-fore Mr ' ^\u to readers 

in tiio Northern StAtoa he made m auocesa by bia readings. 

• • • • 
To-fltorruw and on Mondsjr Kaint-Malo will Iw rn/Me. The 

|iiciur««qua braion tows « I " '• aubriand, its 

most famoit* son, now on i ,f hiii death. 

LiUratun has almady annoonacd tiw appeariinee of t)ie new 
edition of " Mvinoire* d'odti* Tomba," b^ M. Ldmond Uire, 

wiiich Uamiur is piiblishinj;. M. Itii-^ is the great authority in 
Franco on CliHtoauliriHiid and his time. For Sonator Kardoux, 
wlioae liwt iHiok, " La Duchossc de Diiraa," i»roviott«xl in another 
oolunui, is di-ad, leaving M. K.dinond Hire alone with the menibcm 
of the Cliutoniiliriaiid family to kueji tiio " gnn-ii Celtic lir« " 
burning like ti boocon light on the inland of Grand JM. 
« • « • 

The oldest branch of the family of Clinteaubriand is ti>-<biy 
represented by C<>mt«) do Chiiloaubriand, who lives at iSaiut 
Ciermuin, in easy accusa to Paris, where ho is roc<igni»od by the 
Itreton ilriiicini'SHH ono of their chii-f "protectorK," and whither ho 
oft«n comes to preHi<le at the moutings of llioir nH.sociation La 
Hirtnijiir. He has two .souk ; one is now serving; France in Africa, 
and tlie other in nlroiidy revealing a bent towards literuturo. Tho 
Chuteaubi'iaiid family ix i-epreHCnted alno by the Comto.HHO Marie 
de Chuteaubriaud, a younger Hinter of the Comte. Neither the 
Corotesso nor her brother, howover, has many ClinU'aubriaml 
relics to show, and there are virtually no Chatoaubriand archives. 
M. Bin? and tho Marquis do Surger alone have still unpublished 
ilociimontK relating to Cliateaubriaud. Hitherto there was no 
evidence to show that Joseph do Maistro and Chateaubriand had 
ever mot or ever even written to each 4)tlier. M. Bird has dis- 
covered tiiat they had met and had e.xchunged lottors. The 
proofs thereof will Ixj given in ono of the forthcoming volumes 
of his new edition of the " Memoires d'outre Toml>o." It was 
indeeil in tho Salons of the Dui'Iiok.kb de l)ura.i, wlioso cliarm 
M. Bardoiix has revealed to us, that tlie two groat mon first came 
together. In May, 1817, Josepli de Maistro left iSt. Petersburg 
where he had lived sineo IVO&. The Km)ieror Aloxaiider put at 
his disposal a Government vessel bound for France. Ho arrived 
in Paris on tho 24th June, 1K17, and left for Turin on August 22. 
Among tho Sahms frequented by him during this short visit was 
that of the Duohesso de Duras, and when he quitted Paris he loft 
with Mmo. de Duras tho manuscript of his book " Le Ptt|)o," bog- 
ging her to show it to ('hat(>aubriand, who had himself just loft 
towni. On September Ciiateaubriand wroto to him as follows : — 
Monsieur le comte, 

.\pr£8 trois inois d'angoisse.s et de ci-aintes pnur la vie de Mnic. 
de Chateaubriand, je viens pasiter deux jours A Paris ; je trouve avec 
grand pliuHir, niais k mon grand <-tonnenieut, vom letties et votre niauuscrit 
rtstes cbez Mine la diichesse de Duras. Vou< avez dii, inoosieur le eointe, 
itre bien etonn6 de mon silence, apres la mar<|ue de eonHance et d'eetiine 
que VOI18 avez eu rextrttnie bonti; de nie donner ; je vois que je n'ai pas 
encore epiiisi ma mauvaise fortune. 

Je vais, monHJeur le comte, lire le inanuscrit : inais vous eroyez blen 
que je n'auiai \»s riinpertinence d'y tmuver rien a changer ; «• n'est 
point ik I 'ecolier de toucher au tableau du maitre. .lo trouve suulenient 
tt'avance que vous ites bien bon de eombattre M. Fermnd. 

Je serai k Paris vers la fin d'octobre )>oiir I'ouverlure de la session, 
•t je traltcrai de vos inti'tets avec M. Le Norniaitt si, d'apris votre 
riponse, vous i'tes toujours dans I 'intent ion de publier votre ouvi-agc. 

La triste piditique et les persecutions de tout genn? que j'eprouve 
occu|KMit une giande parlie de moo tein|M ; niais il ni'en restera toiijoum 
]iour vous lire et vous admirer. 

Reecve/., )r>-' U- lomte, jo vous prie, I 'assurance de ma rccon- 

nnissanee, de i ■• estime, de ma sincere ailmjration, sans |Mrler 

de la liaule e- - ivee laquello je suis. 

Monsieur le coiat*-, 
Votn* trvs humble et tres devuue Nerrituur, 
L- vieumte de CHA'l'EAUHRIAKD. 
» • •  

The reply to this letter is publishe<l (m page 108 in Volume VI. 
of Comtu de Maistre's " Correspondence," under the erroneous 
heading " A M. lo Vicomte do Bonald." Ciiateaubriand was 
almost always in immmI of money, and in IKlTilm sold his memoirs, 
which he ha<l Ih-;4Uii as fur buck as IHIl, for a capiUil of 200,UflO 
francs and an annual income of 12,000 francs. He was a Celtic 
sjiondthrift, and he left a relatively scanty fortune, in spito of 
his K|ilendid revenues and tho lilierality of Charles X. The story 
of the sale of thn " Mtftnoiias il'outre Tombo " is curious, anri 
the V'ioumte de Vogu< has recently given tlio following version 
of it: — 

hin);ular fortuae, that of the " Mitnoires d'outre Toml)e," full of 
ups and downs, now miserable, now superb like the destiny which the 
liook itstjf related. fhateaubrisnd wrote niul rewrote them during a 
poriu<l of tbirty-tive rears from Dill to ltt4tf. In tho denuded days of 

AugUHt t>, 1898.] 



hh i*A oW mg«i Rp)<eaUtnni wew «m Mi« lookout (or thi" »..ri> • f.,ri.t>.t.. 
of whU'h Imil U'rii givuii to  (*» jminmtr frjn, 
Alilaye aiix-TI>>lii. Ih' iliit Dot yii'M. Lonilcil with 
where to tiini, ho ilid not allow to I* lorn «»».v from him i 
lli'cnt »lirouit wliirh hi- wiw weiiviii(( lor bin ri»iirn<tion in !>•■ 
(lory. Ill IHM't It few frieii<U tiu'tfully ilrew him out of hin eitil«rT>«>- 
niuatii. 'llui Diiki! tin* ("•ri, MM. dn Kniut Trii-Ht, iVrtin, Hjnlc dn 
Ncuvillf, utid other faithful ookh formed a noiii'ty lor the acquiiitioo of 
tliu " Moniuireii. " 'I'lioy liaiidui< orer to ('h>t<'nul<r;and 1^50, (HMIf., fUas 
an annual invonie of l^.OlliJf., pruinininK to rex|>ect hi* will and to 
exploit tbr prei'iou* di'|>oiit only after hit death. Di-iiUi had no deiiire 
for the oM man, however ; it carried oil the meinU-rn of the »opiety, 
and diirieultiei arow with their heim. In IKI4 the «hareholder« rei-overwl 
lUO.OOnf. Kmilv Ue <iirur<lin l>ou^ht of thuiii At thm price the rinht to 
puhliiih in the I'rtnttr^ aJi noon an the funeral U>ll had Ifrgun to toll, thiR 
unknown and famouii inau'iBCript whieh cvervl>ody then dineouniod in 
advani'<! iiK the Krriitent lit«!rary event of the century. I hatvauliriaod 
died iin the Ith of July, Ixis, on the morrow of the days of June. 
There were other crenln. 'riiere wan too much noise in the street ; no 
one hearil thii great noul Hit liy. Who thou|-ht of him on the .'ith '! 
. Ou the 14tli of dctolx'r the tirat jnstnlnieut of the " Menioin-»" 
appcan'd in tlio I'iikki . l''rei|ueiilly interrupted liy tho aliuii>laui-<' of 
mutter, leniHlatlve <iel«itejt, and other political /<i»!» tlinrt, the puhlim- 
tion lanted for two yoarx ainidtit K'neial iniittentiun. (lirardin inter- 
nipteil it on several oc.a»ioiiii to wrve hn readers more laaty inorsolt : 
the '■ Meinoires dun Medecin," hy Alexandre Duniaii, the " Mctnoirca 
<• Don Juan," l>y Felieiou JIallefllle. . . ." 

» » • ' 

" What nro tho qualitioH iiBccMnry for ;i j;i)o(l wriior t " is 
a (jiiostion put )>y M. (Jaiiiillo V'or);iiioI tu a nunilior of nobililo 
WTitors, mill tho results of hi.s iii<|iiiry hu hik« |iiilili.'<hu<l in ttiu 
QuiHudiie, Ho whom M. Miircol I'ru'vost willingly dulw tho 
Vroiicli Meredith, .M. Paul Horvioii, Bays : — 

I eonHidei' that this ijuality beginx in him who has the right wonl 
(U mot JtiKlc)^ and that it grown in proportion as the right word is the 
more uuexp«ctti<l. To Ih^* more deHiiite, the good writer apiiears to me 
to he he who expresses his thought in the teniis tho most atriking that 
he baa ut his disposal. For art consists in tho ability to stir. 1 demanil 
of a good writer that be should Iwnish " ready-made phrases." 

1'lii.s is not tho traditional I'Vonch viow, which is stated in tho 
dohnition ott'orod liy M. Marcel Pnivost himself : — 

The gno<l writer Hp])eai's to nie to Iks Ik- whose style ami thought 
mutually lialancv as the two meinlx'ni of an equation. Or, if a leas 
geometrical formula \iv desired, be whose style is, for bia thought, a 
{lerfectly adjusted and trausitarcnt garment. 
M. Maiirii'o Bnrri'.s " moans " by a good writer 

One who has something to tell mc, and his chief effort should be 
one of attention, niimcly, to keup his mind closely enough fixed upon 
his thought to suceetd in (li.scncuml>ering the expression of it which be 
offers mo. This work of elimination the Kdniond -Vhouta, who seem to 
write lightly and clearly, in no wist> do. 'ITiey arc crowded with useles.s 
insipidities. Hut .August t'omt*- is, in my view, a good writer. . . . .\nd 
for the same reasous, I consider (>teiidhal and Balxac (or the must part 
gooti writers. 

M. Kuiio Doumic offers a delinition and analysis, which, if it 
applies to a Paid Horvieii and a Paul IJoiirgot, does not in the 
least to a Marcol Provost. The good writer, accsnling to M. 
Doiimic, is tliu man who knows tho sense of words, and to know 
tho sense of words in Froiich are necessary : — '" I'ltst, an in- 
stinctive feeling for tho language . . . ; sjKiondly, to 1m! a good 
latinist ; thirilly, not to know fori'ign laiignagcs." M. Fiigiiot, 
a groator tlian any cf those just named, iH^giiis as does M . Dminiic, 
but he adds : — 

Wonls, however, have an art nun- lifitur, suHiciently precise, very 
circumserilicd, which precludes all syminyms. This average SMise men 
who are ex]>ert in the use of the lauguage, or who have, as it were, tlic 
instinct of it, catch whenever they sit ilown to write. Imme<liately 
everybody says, not that they are great writers that i.i quite another 
thing — hut that they write well, ln-causo everybody is struck, and agrei'- 
ably so, by this utter absenct* of am|)bibology [.<icj, by the security given 
the reader by the tongue as thus spoken. 


Tlie " Society of .\nthor8 and Comi)o.ser8 of Paris " have 
just issued their annual report. From tliis it appears that, hist 
year. i.'t,7.*^> was oxix>nded in [leiisions among ineml>er8 on tho 
society's iMioks. A further amount of JL'l.W.t lOs. was also 
disimbnrsed on account of temiwrary assistance and loans. On the 
whole tho receipts sooin, of late, ti> have fallen off. In one respect 
only was a larger profit obt«ine<l than in tlie previous year, lliis 
was derivetl from the various cafe chantants subscribing to the fund. 

M. Oahriel M< 
M. Kouill^a •• !■ 

.,r til., 


I ft 

II 1 '1 1.111, by 
by M. Alntu. 


■n ; thm 

to lai publialuxl I y 

Ihu siiiii 
•' Im IV 
third vuluiih 

i{<$publi({ue,' X 11' » 

liook by the Alilw Plat, on •• '1 ho l>eatiny of .Man ' ; ami m 
treatise on " L'J-VUiejition ih » S-ntimenta," by Professor P. K. 
Thomaa. In the " Hibliothe<|iie .'^iuntifiiitio lnterii»tional« " 
M. Alcan announces also two new volumes, " L'Au<lition ot ■•• 
Organea," by Dr. (Jello, an<l " Poterios, Vorrea, ot I-^nwux," hjr 
MM. Vuignut (of the (ioU-lins worlca) and (iarnior (of tho manu- 
factory at Si-vres). 

« • • • 

Tlio latest of tlie iiionogrnphs ou KreiK-h writors published 
hy Messrs. Hachetttt — a series now numbering soma forty 
voliuiies, which had ittt origin in tlie tast« and lemming of M. 
.liiKforand is M. (iiistave Lanson's " C'orneille." This volume 
has followctl almost ininiefliatcly ui>on the study of " Merim^," 
by M. Filon, noticed by Mr. Henry James in our columns. M. 
Lanson is the author of tho best short record of French lit4.-ra- 
ture that we have. The latest addition to this excellent coUoo- 
tion of critical studies is perhaps tho lM,-st. M. Joseph Textu ia 
engaged ou tho " Voltwiru." 

« • * « 

In the recent death, in Hungary, of the Chevalier tieorg«a 

.Marc/.iangi, an interesting jHsrsonality in the literary world haa 

|Hi88cd away. The Chevalier, who was one of tho grp.tteat 

authorities of the ago on heraldry, was for many years editor 

of the Almanack ile (iiiiha. He also wrote a great deal on 

genealogical matters, and his knowledge of the history and 

descent of the chief families of Kuroiai was unique. As a young 

man, the Chevalier liad served in the Austrian and S|ianish 

armies. At tho time of his death, ho was coutvmplatiug the 

writing of a volume on the Austro-Prussian camjaiign. 
»   • 

Herr Grttbe, of Berlin, is about to publish a work that will 

prove of interest, not only in Germany, but also in this country. 

Its motif is understood to be the artistic views (from a literary 

and dramatic stiindard) of the Elmi^eror Wilhelm. According to 

Herr Grulio, his .Majesty's tastes are a little jieculiar. He finds, 

for i-istance, Schiller " too revolutionary," and I.' ••>o 

cuiistic." Ibseu and Uaiiptmann are also viewed wii ur 

by tho Imiarial mind, but " the majority of the Geruuiu elaasics 

are, nevertheless, profoundly resjiectwl by him." With the 

French dramatists, however, it is a different case, for his Majesty 

will, says the author, have none of them. Domas, in particular, 

he considers " too daring." His favourite author is a countryman 

of his own EntostVou Wildenburch. 

 » «  

Germany, on the whole, has bwii particularly fortunate in 

the manner in which ornamonta of the literature of other 

countries have been pres«!nt«Ml to her. Putting aside 

Sehlegel's stupendous and immortal translation of Shakspeare, 

Freiligrath, the " jKift of I{«;voliitioii," renderwl th« poenm of 

Coleridge, Tennyson, and Bums into his native tongue with k 

verve and spirit that make them reail lik. .Xnd now 

among the literary remains of a young <■• .velirt. Otto 

Sachs, who dio«l the other day, the eonimenrement of a version 

of tho '• Barrni-k Hooni Kalla<ls '' has been disrovemd which 

promisiHl to have lieen as distiugiiishMl an achieveimmt as Froili- 

garth's Bums, if one may judge by a specimen published recently 

in a lea<ling Viennese journal. Nothing of the rhythmic swing, 

the picturesqiieness, and colour of the original haa been 

8acrilico<l in the following linos from his trauslatiou of 

" Maiidalay " :— 

Wo der alt*- Moolinain-Tempel octwirta blmkt irs Meer hinein. 

&\lt\, ein braunrs Burma-madalMn, luul ieti mis- 

Denn der Wind geht in deo Palmcn. Tcmpel^l^ 

Komm zunlck. du Bntenkriegt ' .-.unick aacL iUndalay : 

Komm lurtlck naeh 
Von deu Svhiffeu Rem .lu i\. lu ; 



[August (', is;)S. 


Uuigooo Bach lUndalay ? 


>|r.i IT iirr riugnnrn, jaj;i a*'r Hfti ; 
I'bJ <i«r Tcf, TOD ChiiM dkBaMtad, strrut rin Blilirn Jun-h ilic B«i. 
V:-. t • r ;r ; 'in ::r"»-« K "<-Vri>m, und ihr HAiibchrn cl«.« w«r Kriin, 
1 • .■ :, I • iw-Ut— Knd wie Theb»w'« KoniKin. 

l.,i,< 1':. ..>! -.i..^ >.< ...:... i., atx ich ne lurnt ilort fuvl, 
I'nii bfkliTkt nut ouM-n KiiMCo aiiiM erdaen UttUen Hand, 

(iotxi-nbilil auK Lebm fehnumt, 

(jrottrr Ittnldba (iott gpnannt. 

Ak '. Sie waixltr Dir ilvfl Kikrkto, und irh kiiut Die wo air itaod, 

Dort wn Wa( umrh Mandalajr, ii.s.w. 
• « • « 

A eorreapomlent h«s discovered in " Robinson Crusoe " the 
following reference to the Far Eastern question :— 

Tbrir annin are badly diaciplined, and want akill to attapk, or 
liiu|nr to rrtrcat : and tbrrpforr, I niiiat confra.^. it anvmed strsngr to 
■W wbm 1 oune botiio and beard our people aay such One things of the 
power, (loiy, inignifiet-nrr, and trade of the Chinew ; becanae, aa far aa 
I saw, tbay appeared to h- n conU>inptible herd or crowd of ignorant, 
•ordid flaTpa, tubjertnl to a OoTemment qualified only to rule such a 
people : and were not it* distance inconceivably (treat from Muscovy, 
•ad the Muscovite Empire in a manner as rode inipolrnt, sad ill 
gwrerueJ a* they, the Ciar of Muscovy might with ease drive them all 
cot of their country and conquer them in one campaign ; and bad tbo 
Csar (who is now a'growiu; I'rince) fallen this way, instead of nttiickinft 
the warlike Swedes, and equally improved himself in the art of war, as 
tbey say be has ilone ; and if none of the Powers of Kuro|>e had envied 
or interru|>ted him, be might hy this time have been Emperor of China, 
iaateed of being beaten by the Kinx of Sweden at NarTa, when the 
Utter was not one to six in number. 

« * •  

A correspondent, signing himself " Cosas de Espafiu," sends 
us the following : — 

The ase of the exprcaaion aula da (i abounds in English and 
Amerirao writing. Any form of combustion is an " auXo iln fi," with 
authors, printers, and corrtctora of the Press. Even the books of Ford, 
Borrow, »nd Hay, about Spain, contain *' rt}ito da fif^' which one can 
barilly suppose could have lieen in their manuscripts ! Ami, last week, 
T"*/ Timff makes a i^panisk gentleman RSy, " 'I'hey suppose that we 
still have autn da fti." As in the Spanish language the word " da " 
doc* not exist, onr writers and printers might well desert it for the 

when referring to ^p;tlll and 


« « « 

Johnson writes from OKceola, Missouri, 

more correct oiito dt ft, especially 

Mr. Thomas 
U.S.A. :— 

For several years I have U-en eollwtihg materials for a Ixiok on the 
Life and SVorks of 'Ilmmas Taylor, the PInloiiist. It is my desire to 
make it as exhaustive as prnetieiihle. I shall Im> greatly iibligeil for in- 
formation of any kind coneeniing Taylor or his family. He died in 
Walworth, Surrey, in 1KS5, leaving a wife, children, and grandchildren. 
» • • • 

A oorroipondent wishes to know the author and context of 
the following p.iR8npo : — 

.And that grt'at voice which rising brought 
lied wintli to faces pale with thought. 
And falling fell with showera of tears. 
« « « •» 

We havo ropoivwl iho foUowiii); from a corrospondont : — " 1 
shall ho very iiinch oliliginl if y'xt could toll im- whet lior any hook 
in Knglish r'Hardinjj tlio .\iniiziins lias liccii |mli)is)iod. I know 
of a (iormsn work, liiit iinl'ortiiimtoly iiin rrnt i.i oioi. ut in timt. 

*  ■« 

Tlio Syndics of tho Cumbriilpe I'nivcrsity Pnss Hiiiioiincu 
that thoy tind it imposhihle to publish tho facsimilu edition of 
" (.'odex HcZH' " lit as onrly a dat« as tlusy had hoped. Thu 
plati'S have liM'n engraved, but the work of com)iarin^' tlie proofs 
with the oriniual is very laborious and requires a longer time 
than was expected. 

A study of the life of Sir Henry Lawrence, the Pacificator, 
by Lieiiteiiaiit-(ieneral .1. .1. McLood limes, U.E., V.C., is on 
the eve of jmbliaition as a supplementary vohlrfio to the " Itiders 
of India '' — tho ("liirend;>n Press Series of Indian Historical 
rotrosjiects. K jiortrait and map will 1h> inchided in the volume. 

In a fortlicoming siiecial numlwrof La Ptvmr the chief place 
will he devotwl to an article on " Alexandre Kalfitiiero. sculptor 
and )ainter," with 1 1" rejiroductions from his works. There will 
also lie articles by .Juh's Claretie, Francois Cop|i«Se, Armand Sil- 
vestre, H. D. Davray, and others. 

The openinj; chapter of a new novel entitled " Tho Indi- 
vidualist " appears in the Aupust Foitiiiiilitlii. It is wrilttsii by 
Mr. " Wentwortli Moore " and (ie:.l« with social and economic 
questions of the day. 



The Contemporary Review. 
The ChurH;h Monthly. The 
United Service Magazine. 
Good Words. Blackwood's 
Haissztne. The ArKOsy. The 
Oentleman's Mafrazlne. The 
Genealoarlcal MsK'azlne.The 
Public SchocI Mafrazlne. 
TheCornhlll Magazine. The 
Sunday at Home. The Art 
Journal. The University 
Maarazlne. Journal of the 
Society of Archivists and 
Autograph Collectors. The 
Antiquary. Saint Peter's. 
Temple Bar. Macmlllan's 
Hagazlne. The Badminton 
Ma4{«z>ne. The Century 
Maarazlne. Knowledge. St. 


fi"  '   


A Romance 

Consul, l-y 

..1,1. 1~. Ul. 

Idylls. Hy .U. Maud Ilrllyrr. "J x 

.'•III., 128 pp. l.<iiidon. IXM. 

Digby. Uiiig. 2h. Od. 

The Land ot the Monuments. 

\ute-niiKK\ III i;in'riii\ rl.'JiiilKil.H^ 
./oHfjili f'olftir:!. >;  .'ijiii.. XXX. )- 
t.'ifl pp. Loiiiliiii. IS!!". 

llo<l<lci .V sioiighton. 5«. 


Handbook on the Licensing 

Acts and llieir .VdiiiililHl ration. 

:tr<l m. Hy A. T. Ikirim. ■Jx.'ijin., 

ix. i tr7 pp. l»nrion. IMM. 

.Maeiiiillan. 2s. 6d. n. 
Licensing Praotloe. iltelail 
S.ili - I Hv )l. K chrliUle. 71^ Sin., 
xxxvl. i '/frt pp. Ixmdon, 18W. 

(iniiit ItirliardH. (Is. Hd. ii. 

'!   "itor. Vol.  ' 

. l>v (I. A. 
 V I'.i Die I 
.s,-.T.ii., wii.+tlspp. l,i,ml.. 
Sir Thomns Browno. 

*->■  '■ ' - M  Mlncl unci Art 

r : ! I. :  111 owning- ■'■"' l-'l- 

Hlehntvt II 

lil.x kvxiol. 1-. I>l. 

Selections fromTalns.) Klarkie s 

\I , : • I r , ... ■. I . , r- . I- I t.v 

H w,;^i. ..^.^ ....... 

uD Uroeii I'octr}'. PbiloNoifby, 6i.c. 

2iid Kd. I-M. b,v Krr/j/ii .^Ww^ 

l.l..l». 7ixaliii.. IX. i ll'.i pp. Lkmi- 

don, .N'cw York, and Itoniiiay. llflW. 

I.iOiiKiiiaii>^. 7k. Ikl. 


A New Sequel to Euclid. (I*nrt 

I.I Hy II. J. DUirordi. .M.A., 

T.C.I). *ix5ln„ 78 pp. lx)iidon. 

1W)8. Blackic. Is. 

A Practical Cookerv Book. Hy 

Mm. Houndill. ^^  .ijiii.. vlii. • 
:>HI mi. l.oiicloii, 1N!»S. Ilirki;!!-. 

The Adventures of a French 
Sergeant I iiiHiig Hi ' 

ill llaU. Spain. ii.c. 
Hiin-. If. S- .liin.. xll. 
don. I««s. Mm. iiMi-.n. 1.-. 

The Rescue of the Waif. Hy 

y. ./. /ffirnnrilo. Hi •. .'illi.. 'Jl pp. 
I.OIliloll. |H<IS. 

"Tint liililicir- Hook Itooni." 3.1 

Aurora Ln Cujini. A Ke'ilii-li. 

1. . Hy U. Ii. Cuii 

III. 7i 'dill.. 211 pp. 

The IVIodern 1^' - I . o 

Market. Hv l/</ri. ' 
./. ..;... .11.. I .ill.. i-~. W . 
i.i  lljiii.. 171 pp. l.oil.i"h. !-*.^, 

Htitchfn.«oii. '^ 

Russia's Sea Power, I'a-I mid 
I'n -. Ill . iir.l hiUI~< i)fllnl; 

V  H) '•..;. .s'li- (;. ■- ' '■■■-'■ 

M.ti. with Map 
Jix. 71 > Alio, , .\ 

...11. iKis. y, ,. . ^.. 


Cuba, and oiIht Ver-.*'. By ftoltrrt 

i.rrM. 7". Jiiii.. 1 jj pp. Toronto. 


SuiiKS or SMt and Sail. H.v 

'J'humUJi h'Uminy Uuy, "ii^iiUx., 

128 pp. \i\v York and l.oiidoii, 
ISiis. 'rlKl!iiil(lirl'iibli»liinK<o. Ss. 

Willow Leaves. .\ Wreath of 
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(Unicorn HookK <if Verwc No. 3.) 
Gi x5in.. a!) pp. I..ondon, 1196. 

I ni.orn Pii'-v... 'Jh. fid. Ii. 

Paradise Regained, and other 

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ClaHKieH.i tixliii.. viii. Kt71 pp. 
1/ondoii and New York. KSK 

I lent. iH. (id. n. 

The Law of Light and Aip. Hy 

Al frill A. thittni/n and Artiold 
Inmiiii. 7)xl(in., xxxiil. i 2'Jl pp. 
Ixnidon. ISMS. K. V. WHkoii. ««. 

Short Studies on Vital Sub- 

Ir.tS, Hv I lie Urr. f. 11'. dr 

'i.rdlr. M..\. Sx.Min.. vili. I 
- ; ;.. I.l)ndoll, 1«)S. Slock. IK 

A Vision or the Cross. Hy 

Slafiliu lliil'i. 71-:tiin.. HI pp. 
l,onil.iii. Slo.kwell. lid. 

Belief and Lire. SeriiionN hy r. 
Illiiiiiildn iniliamK. 8x5iln., 
vlii. t 3H.'i pp. Uiiidoii. IRIK. 

Iloraei' .Marshall. 3h. M. 

Plotorlai Guides lo London. Tlio 

Tlii:lil;>nr! .Mi.i l-l:ili(l--. I'.'li/iiliee, 

I Ii. ami 

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It.-vi-.'.l 1111(1 l.'nlarKefl hy Olipliaiit. 
Sill. -.11. .11. 7*-.'>iii.. vlll. ) 'JUS pp. 
l-^illiittiiri^li and Lfindon, IWW. 

Oliphaiil. 3h. im. 

Edited by ^. 71. SraUI. 


Published by SlU Z\m$. 

No, 13. SATURDAY, AUGUST V.i, 18U8. 



Leadlnsr Article lloiiilny KciKlinj? 

"Among my Books," l>y Miss Ajjin-s M. ('loi-lcti 1.'<I 

Poem "Midwinl.T NiKht," by W. Wilfrid CiimplH-ll ... l:tl 
"The Adveuture of the Young Man and the 
Pocket Book," II., l)y K. Ilul -ItiMmm llCi 

Reviews - 

Miiili Til l'"ii'iiili Dniiii.i lli- 

KlMii kikI ll.irniw - 

lliirrow .School -An Ktoii Biblic^Kniphy-Kloiiiii Iho KurtiuM ItiJ, 12."» 

A New "Don Qiiixoto" 12."> 

.Mr. Knic.s( t'olcritluf's Pociiim 127 

Sdentino Text-booka- 

Mr. .\. Siilifwlck-- Ti\l iKink of ZihiIok.v K1 '  '  of 

I'lij-^li^ I'liif. I'iirki'r'H To\tl><K)k of Z"' of 

Ikilaiiy ~ KloiiifiidirylieiiiMiilSflciicr fi ii>. 

iioiiiy Textbook of Kiiloinology 12S, lU) 

Mlnop Notloos - 

Now KiiKli-'h I>irlioimry .\ ('Biitiiry of Viicolimlloii (?iii<lc to 
IaiiiiIoii l>tik'U.''iiiia IMloctixHiniit — Tho ('humbvrliiin (iirthilny 
Jhiok Through <i OInm Lightly— ScoltiHh Lifo oiid Hiiinoiir— 
Kiimiuliil SkutolioK mo 


AuftTHtPluiiiK-Tho C'olleolion Wiuiincl Tin' Dull Mi-^f .Vrrhlimnl 
— Boiktrlx Infulix Viiii.i>.oro— Convict 01) -Pinil Beck. Ueteclivu 
-Solnh Ilurrlson .\ Iti'piilivlion f or a .SonK - •■V llJicc for Millions 
- l.mly J./.cl..l-Hniitlionic 135, 13(J, l;^7 

Prom the Magazines, II i:<7 

Bismarck i:fi» 

Obituary Dr. Gcorg EIhts Ill) 

Corpespondence .shyloek In Kiw^tem I.itcnilnrc (I'l-of. Dowdiii) 
- Vulor HiiKo lis Tnivolliir (Mr. J. ManminK A (juootion of HiHlori- 
c«l .\icunicy (Major Miirtin Iltiino)— TeunyHon and Bright— The 
rmycr-Hook IVnUor-" Aloof ncfw" 140, IH 

Notes 141, 142, 143, 144 

List of New Books and Reprints 144 


If misfortune acquaints us with strange bed-fellows, 
it is no less true that the approach of the holidays prepares 
most of u.s for singular variety in our reading. It is the 
ambition of the holiday-maker to be able to say with 
the iK)et, " Out of my country aiul my.self I go," and a 
change in liteniry diet is beneficial at this season of the 
year, no less than in the tourist's breakfa.>^ts and dinners. 
In this resi)ect the serious i)erson, who normally whets his 
appetite on IMue-books and treatises on |iolitical economy 
and the hea\iest ailicles in the reviews, is at a decided 
advantage over the rest of us. Circumstances make it 
ea,sy and even imperative for him to change ; for when a 
man readies the stage of packing up Hlue-books in his 
])ortmanteau, holiday-making in the proper sense of the 
word cannot be said to exist for that misguided mortal. 
The schoolboy, indeed, is in the hands of a superior i>ower, 
which may insist on his iwraphrasing " T-ycidas " or reading 
a ilozen chapters of the cheerful Bishop of Oxford ; but as 
a rule he is sensible enough to forget to take the books 
Vol. III. No. (>. 

with him, and a benign Providence OMually xettlea hi« 
holiday in a place where they are ui. ' '' '* the 
present time of ye.'ir mont of it-* ai' ly- 

making, and a few reflectioHH on iti« literary aM]>ecU 
natundly present themselves to the incpiiring mind. 

If it is desired to be methodic, one may divifle tln» 
subject of holiday remling, after the fashion of the old 
sermon makers, into two heads — tlie lxx>ks that we take 
with us, and the lx>oks that we Kml at our de-^tinntion. 
The two sorts illustrate what a mathematical writer on 
probability has aptly called Choice and Chance. Believer* 
in free will are Iwiund to give the j>ride of place to choi<*. 
Much is to he. learnt of a man's literary charact4'r from the 
JKMiks that he takes with him on his holiday, guide-ltooks, 
time-tables, and fly-books being, of course, exceptetl, as 
coining under the head of necessaries. Tastes in this kiwi 
vary in the most remarkable manner. Book-<-arryirt}j 
tourists may, however, be cliutsifief I into two great divisions — 
those who take with them books that tfiey feel they ought 
to read, and those who cannot bear to b«* ]»arted from an 
old favourite. Naiwleon, who planned a neat little travelling 
library of some three thousand volumes, is perhaps the 
most striking example of the former cla.«s ; but then it 
must be remembered that Naiwleon was exempt from the 
modem terror of having to tip jwrters and pay for excess 
luggage. If it were not for that drawback, one knows 
men who would be ca[)able of emulating him, even though 
they did bring back the whole cargo unoj)ened. IJke 
Mr, Thomas Hadden, a of duty makes them 
" always take something solid to the i.slands," To have 
Hallam or Buckle in a corner of their portmanteau enable* 
them to loaf with a happy sense of having f>< in 

reserve for a rainy day. One has more sym, ..,., Aith 
the people who take books with them for jjleasure, though 
one cannot expect everyb«xly to carry this principle 
as far as Condorcet, whose arrest and execution were 
brought about by his unwillingness to go on the most 
hurried excursion without his jKx-ket Horace. For a 
heroic example, it is only necessary to turn to the 
life of Macaulay, who had the root of the matter in him. 
One rememl)ers how he carried ofT his sister " on a jaunt 
to Kdinburgh in a ix>st-chaise, fumishetl with Horace 
Waljwle's letters for their common reading and Smollett's 
collected works for his own." When he went to India, 
the provision that he tlesigneil for the voyage was — 
" Kichardson, Voltaire's works, (ii'obon, Sismondi's 'His- 
tory of the French,' Davila. the ' I Irlando ' in Italian, 
'Don Qui.xote ' in JSjMinish, Homer in (ireeii, Horace in 
I^atin," besides some books of jurisprudence and some to 
initiate him in Persian and 1 nee. In these 

degenerate days most jieople v . ... . _,'j several tiinea 
round the world before getting to the end of such a 
library. One prefers to think of Thackeray's well-known 
account of that wet holiday at Ootacaiiuind. durintr which 



[August 13, 18U8, 

Miuiiulav's copy of " CUuriiuai " j>n»v»xl to Ih« such a boon 
to holiilav -makers of the most exalttnl rank. 

8tevtMi»on observes somewhere t!mt few l>ook.s are 
worth the jwu-e of a pound of tobacco to a man of limited 
meun8. Oi»<» t- t this " (ireadful true "remark by 

raying that a 1 - - ii a man eliooses to carry with him 
on a walking or cycling tour has passed in the highest 
standartl. Not many instances of such dexotion are to lie 
found in print, though most of us can 8Ui)ply them from 
our o»Ti private eijjerience. One recalls the amorous pre- 
ti i which Hazlitt, in his famous essay " On Cioin;; 

a . .," tells us: — "It wa^i on the 10th of April, 

1798, that I sat down to a volume of the • New Eloise,' at 
the inn at Llinjjollen. over a b<ittle of sherry and a cold 
chicken." There are not many readers nowadays in this 
country whose devotion to Kousseau is sufficient to 
make them carry him twenty miles : Julie's magic 
is somewhat out of date. One has more in com- 
mon with Stevenson, who thinks that " a volume of 
Jiazlitt's essays would lie a caj«tal ]MK-ket-l)ook on such 
a journey; so would a volume of Heine's songs; and for 
» Tristram Shandy ' I can pledge a fair experience." As 
a rule the j>oets are most in favour for this sort of 
excursion ; they are to prose what concentratetl meat 
lozenges are to sandwiches. Mr, Palgrave's delightful 
'• Golden Tn>asury " may be safely reconunendetl, and 
Pickering's diamond editions seem to have been designed 
for the pedestrian who likes to commune over a pii)e with 
Virgil or Horace, or the elegant Terence. An odd volume 
of MouUiigne b a charming giurulous comiMUiion, and 
Musset's " Comedies " }»eople the way with pretty iiEuicies. 

Even if one takes no books ufKin one's holiday it is 
hard to do without them. "The mind," as Froude 
observes on this subject, *' cannot steady itself by its 
single strength ; we re<|uire comjianions — but comi»anions 
which intrude ujwn us only when we invite them ; we 
re<)uire lxM)ks, and the choice is a serious one." Thus, 
]wrhai>s, he who leaves it to chance is most truly in the 
1,. ' ' '. Then comes the oj>j>ortunity of exploring 

t., .)f the rustic circulating-library. Too often 

it ill nowadays a mere replica on a small scale of the great 
«:. '  of new novels inOxforil Street, but even then 
t are to l)e found in tiie du4y and unexplored 

u|>|ier shelves. Mo.«t of us have recollections of excellent 
ac(piaintiii " made which would have never oicurred 
to one at <• h as Kenelm Digby's "Broad Stone of 

Hijnour," or Henry Hrooke's curious and characteristic 
l»<K»k "The F«s)l of (Quality," or that brilliant but little- 
known work " Uealmah," or even tlie vigorous " IJrake- 
sjiejire," which ought surely to have a new vogue in these 
days of >'■ ' ' lid romance. It is there, too, that 
one has a  i ing for oneself the truth of ( liarles 

Ijimb's praise of "the sullie<i leaves and worn-out ai)i)ear- 
ance, nay, the vrr ' ' ' t. if we would 

not forget kind ; . of an old 

circulating lilirary * Tom Jones ' or • Vicar of Wakefield ' " 
'' l.iys of cheap books lioth are likely to 

1 1 I by a viiesitiienny (-^lition. TnexiKMU-d 

t !• 1 ure*, too, are to be found in inns or country house* ; 

a kinil forgetfulness may have abandon<Ml a volume of 
Anatole France in the one : a copy of Johnson's " Lives 
of the Highwaymen," or " Tom and Jerry" with the i)lates 
may spring from a dusty cujAioard in tlie other. 

One of the most charming tilings, liuuily, about this 
matter of holiday reading is that it presents old friends 
to us in so new a light. Kvcn a great book, even an 
acknowledgwl immortal, dejiends for much of its effect 
ujwn the circumstances in which one reads it. A ))leasant 
holiday, when the whole organism is in beautiful order 
and the world consequently takes on a roseate hue quite 
diflerent from the smoked glass of town, may introduce us 
to remarkable asjiects of books that we thought we did 
not like. If you read a book after a hard and enjoyable 
day's exercise in tlie open air, says Steven.son, " you find 
the language strangely racy and iiarmonioiis ; words take 
a new meaning; single sentences jwssess the e^ir for half 
an hour together; and the writer endears himself to you 
at every l)age by the nicest coincidence of sentiment. It 
seems as if it were a l)ook you had written yourself in a 
dream." Most people who take an intelligent interesting 
literature have noticed such things. The recent develo]>- 
ment of what is called the novel of locality has had its 
effect on holiday reading. Soon there will be no place of 
any consideration but will have its hx'al novel ready for 
the tourist. In the meantime it is the obvious thing to 
read " Westward Ho I " at Clovelly, and " Loma Doone " 
at Porlock, to carry a iKJcket Wordsworth through the 
Lake District and refresh one's memories of Scott's 
t'oilantogle Ford while visiting the Great Sluice of the 
Glasgow Waterworks. Even where this exact appropriate- 
ness is kicking the rural influences shed new light on 
many a book. A Georgic tastes better on the top pf 
Cruachan than by the study fire, an essay of .Montaigne 
lulls the mind to pleasant rest on the pine needles of the 
Hartz, and there is a piquant contrast in reatling 
"IVcheur d'Islande" on the hotel verandah at Cairo. 
Even the veriest trash may find itself welcome when 
one is subject to the holiday influences : else how could 
we account for the i)opularity of several contemiwrary 



Modern French Drama. S.v. n r.--.r\ . I.y Augrustln 
Filon. Tiaii>«<l l(v Janet B. HogartU. Inti.Hluiiion by 

W. L. I'omUiiv. "^  '■■ ^' .!o| m,. I,uimIiiii. IS!>S. 

Oiiapman aud Hall. 7/6 

In his brief but uselul intriKliiction to M. Augu^tin 
Filon's ".Modern French Ihama," Mr. W. L. Courtney 
claims for its .luthor that in his earlier essays on our own 
theatre " he did a substantial service to his countrymen " 
in exjilaining to them a fa<t " which through uncon- 
sciousness or unfaniiliarity they were apt to ignore — that 
mislern England |s>.-sesse<l a stiige .supported by dramatic 
writers of ability, iuilep<Mi<lence, and originality." He wlils 
truly enough tliat, in rendering something of the same 
kind of service to English readers with resi)ect to the 
French stage, he has undi-rtaken a work the conditions of 
which are not jiarallel to ot the former case, since 
" we may flatter ourselves that we know more about French 




1 '_'.' 

dniina and I'ii'ikIi lili'ratun- in Lomlon lliau 
bourn know iibuut liteniry or (Imiimtic iiin 
Knj;lfin(l." A study of tin- two tlicatn's, Iiomx-vit, \>y tli<? 
siiiiii' liiind, is Hurt- to 1m' vuluabh^ for thi- puriKjhfs of 
coiniiari«ou. Ksjieciully is it iuterfstinjj to iii(|uiri' 
wlu'tlicr till- live distinct inovcinenis wliii-h M. Kiloii 
traci's in Frcnoli drama nri* also tra<Tablc in our own. 
And it falls particularly. ]>crlia|is, witliiii inu' jirovincc in 
tlifsc )ii!)^cs to conduct tliis cxundnation niaiidy from tli)* 
literary jMjint of view, iiltliou<;li in oriiiT to do bo we hliall 
liavc to admit tliat, us rf<;iirds tin- lirst two stupes of 
M. T'iion's idstory, tlic very conditions of n coinpHrison nri' 
liardly to be fouml. l''or tbe period and work of Scrilw, and 
i'or llic dcvi'lojmicnt of tbc tradition of that dramatist by a 
still greater mastcrof staj;<'criifl, M. Surdoii, we base barilly 
unytldn^j to show on this side of tbe Cbaniiel but a 
HiM'ies of servile adaptations, tbe Eiifjlisb nutbors of 
wbieli were (juite content witb sucb success as could be 
Hcijuired by reproducing^ tlieir mtHJel's ingenuities of con- 
struction, leavinj; I be literary merit of tbe ori<;iiial- — 
wbatever tluit nuj^bt be— bi-bind tbem in tbe country of 
its orij;in. 

Nor, unfortunately, is it jtossible to lay even tbe founda- 
tion of a j)arallel between tbe dnunas of tbe two nations 
durins; tbe erawbicb succee<led — an era practically coeval in 
duration with tbe Second Empire. It was durini,' tins age, 
tbe age of .\ugier and tbe younger Diuiias, tbat l-'rencb 
drutna, or, at any rate, Trencb prose comedy, readied tbe 
bighest point of excellence to wliicb it bas attained during 
tbe present century. " Tbe tbeatre," says M. Filon, witb, 
for a dramatic bistorian, a somewbat amusing candour, 
" <ndy interests me in so far as it is related to the bistory 
of ideius and sentiments" ; and it is natunil, tberefore, tbat 
in bis brilliant sketcb of tbest- two famous dramatists be 
sbould bave dwelt rather ujion tbe matter than on tbe 
workuHinsbip of their plays. But enough, of course, 
Rj)pears in his criticism of tbem to show tbat be fidly 
appreciates the literary side of their genius; and, when be 
declares tbat if the day e\er dawns when Dumas' pieces are 
no longer played •• a volume of his sayings must be placed 
on tbe same shelf with ' Pascal's Thoughts,' with • Mon- 
Uiigne's Essays,' and with the ' IMaxims ' of liarocbefou- 
cauld," be might bave added tbat tbat volume can claim a 
jiosition Iiy tiie side of these classics in right not only of 
its wit and wisilom and its sayings, but also of a perfection 
of form in which its author can challenge comiwrison witb 
the greatest artist of the three, 'i'et it was at the time w hen 
Dumas and Augier were producing their best work tbat 
M. Taiiu' could declare of this country in a severe sentence, 
which, however, it is easier to resent than to refute, that 
"there is nowhere in Europe a more barren stage; the 
higher classes abiindon it to the peojde." 

Even when we do begin to redeem ourselves from this 
reproach and to •' grow " a national drama once more tbe 
circumstances of its emergence are not wholly encouraging. 
Passing by its earli(>r and more tentative In'ginnings and 
coming at once to tbe play whicli is su|ij)osed to have con- 
clusively settled the great cpiestion of the rena.>;ceuce — 
Mr. Pinero's The lS<.'cuiiil Mrs. 7'<(»'/)(<*C(ry~-we have to 
admit tbat it wears tbe air of a somewhat belated birth. 
For after all in the " problem play," of which this 
remarkable piece was the [)rogenitor — a parent of numerous 
ort'spring — our dramatists were only starting at the jioint 
which the French dramatists of the Second Empire bad 
reached more than thirty years liefore in plays like />c 
Jh'in!imni<li' and Le Mur'mijf d'Oli/nifM'. Still tiiere is no 
suggestion of conscious imitation, and tbe comjwrative 
antiquity of tbe thesis may jierbaps be accounted for on 



lljiU I!.' 
year' ! 
awakening to an 
at any rat**, in r^ 
treatm<'nt on tl 

Pinero anti bin f< \ 

growth, it would un<i 

that modem England 

dramatic writers of ability . . ." 

Its sid)sei|uent history, however, \>i 'iilrast 

to that of tbe <lrama of our neighl ■... .. .,. in M. 

Filon's animated ]«ges. Franc**, during the laj<t ten yean«, 
bas had her reaction t-o drnrnatiu Naturalism, her Tiiej'itre 
I^ilire, bci- New Comedy, and is now ajiparently working 
round again to the romantic and |KK*tic dnima by 
way of .M. Kichepin's C/u-nihicim. and M. Ifo.-tamrs 
Vifrano ile Jieryaiic. In England the ]irol>lein play, 
liecoming ever more and more sonli<l and ] - •■•  'ie, 
expired some years ago of public weariness and i ; 

our Tbi'-atre Eibre iM-rished stilllMini, after Melding 
little save superfluous jiroof of the incajxicity of tbe 
great unacted ; in the way of Natundisrn, we bave nothing 
to show but a few bald versions of tbe Ibsenian drama ; 
and for our attempts at Komance, abundantly as they seem 
to bave plea.sed an easil; . . i . ^.,. jj,.p ^,||,,||y 

indebted to the more or I j-tnr'^ of ^I<>ri«i4 

of adventure, which, in the wi>rd> of Di.-nii  'le 

t<K) familiar cla.ssical quotation of a i ny 

op|K)nent, bave already receive*! " the .stamp of {lublic 
ap|>roval" in the form of the six-shilling novi'l. These last 
apiH-ar to diside with the farcical come<ly — which we liave 
always with us — and the usually f ' m 

*K'casionally silly, musical extriivaui ra 

lioutVe, tbe sull'rages of tbe Uritish iilayg<HT. 'I'be sole 
*'Xcei)tion to tbe monojxily at pri's«'nt iih.iv.iI hy them — 
and, we may add, the only hopeful - le for the 

moment on the dramatic horizon — is the ii\ n ..i jiopularity 
of the " comedy of manners " as represi-nted in the later 
and less serious work fif Mr. Henry .Arthur .Tones. 

Perhaps tbe most interesting chajder of >f. Filon's 
book — certainly tbe one which treat* of the ; sting 

jiortion of tbe subject — is tbe last. In t;.. ... .ival of 

A'erse on tbe Stag*' " he «leals with one of the most curious 
of phiMiomena in tbe intellectual !' ly 

France, the universal outburst <• .1, 

not only in literary and artistic *-ircles, but among the 
entire playgoing jtopulation of Paris, by tbe brilliant 
exploit in romantic drama of a French ptjet who bas not 
yet attainetl his thirtieth year. It is an entbu-iasm 
which bas alfecte*! M. Filon himself, for it is only in his 
account of */»• Berf/rrac shows a 

tendency to ■. • ^m bis customary .>n in tbe 

distribution of j)raise an»i blame, .\fter giving a nummary 
of M. Kostiind's drama, be coutinues thus: — 

Is this really a tlraniatic subject? I" it nnt mt-hpr » <1rpfim 

— a 8iil>tle. inipi»li>i«lilf fiincy— th«> " B<  '"1 

wiiigt'*!," wtiii'li. iici'oriliiiir to Plat<> 

not ri'i|uiru ri > ' ' ' > . , 

so Rli>;ht II fi 

insolent ^o<hI uh iv i>>mi>«i-v'i i 

lie, the wiigor was iilayc<l aii'l 

had iiotlii"' ' 

it woi'hl ' 

t)loll;'llt ' 

alioiit it : thi; . 
for ten pinys. 

Ili> III"!" S. . ll't?. 




yoiiii;; acain. 
anil triiiiKinj: i 
olil and yet new , 
what it reatores. 

»liiih »u !■ T 

A torrent • ';o 

moment, a rein of poetry 4.0 lull uj iii.-iiin:.3 .1. y, 

overwhelm ami intoxicate ns, while tlie j:i'.ii ty "f  ivs 

Hashes out ill brilliant plimses and covers us with a ^ll<J^er of 




[August 13, 1808. 

v«. Th» ni|;htin«ro of symboliam U wt to flight, tlio 

.•m mi-^t« '■ ':   ' -■" ' ■' ' ■' '■ -'   - cif 

i> kt her liost, Fnnoe at the i-tilniiimting 

Enfilishmoii, however, may be excn8e<l for shrinking. 
It woiilii Ih- merely pn».<uniiitu(n>s for tlictn either to 
i-tinfinn or contj-st this sonicwhnt startliiij^ utterance of an 
niiinn|>lislied Frenoli critic on a matter so iinioh beyond 
t!i- range of their full appreciation a* French j>oetry. 
>:i.l of course the beauty of M. Hostand's verse is not 
:i'.t .;••(■  '^I'ln any more than tiie charm of his 

uiw.u.; -: iid Ills romantic imaj,Mnation. They 

will wonder less at -M. Filon's almost ditliyrambic praise 
of him than at the hearty apjilause which he has won 
from all sorts and conditions of his countrymen : and the 
la«t circumstance may jwssiiily suggest to them, as it did 
to ourselves the other day, some rather nielanclioly 
reflections. " One fact," writes "SI. Filon, si>eaking of his 
own country, " is henceforth cert^iin. We have dramatic 
I :■; and we have also a public for dramatic i)oetry." Is 
< iii.iT of these facUs certain for ourselves ? Nay — a more 
iii><ouracing (]uestion still — is not the " public for 
:ry"' so certainly non-existent anjoiig us as 
• rfluous any intjuiry into the existence of the 
• Iniinritu i-M't"? Of course.he may come into being at any 
im. incut, ifpiriliisjlai ubi full, as M. Filon says, or means 
t.i -ay — for the second word is so unfamiliar in Latin that 
his printers have insisted on making him say ''fiat" — 
but wliat comfort is there in that? The wind of the 
spirit never listeth to blow over a whole iK?ople. 


Hakioiw .'^cnooL f Arnold. 21s.) — a liandsoinc volume, 
the work of several writers, all old Harrovians or masters at 
1 — may be said to occupy a jwsition intermediate 
I Mr. Percy Thornton's formal record, " Harrow 

Scliool and it« Surroundings," publishe<l some ten or a dozen 
years ago, and Mr. Minchin's amusing, though occasion- 
ally indiscn-et "Old Harrow Day.s." Air. Edmund Howson 
and Mr. (i. T. Warner, a.>isistant masters, are the editors, 
and I/ord J'^jiencer write?; a few lines of intro<hiction. The 
UM)k is txc dlcntly illustrated by Mr. Herbert M. Marshall 
viiili jKirtniits (»f the head masters of the last seventy 
— Fx)ngley, Wordsworth, Vaughan, the jiresent Master 
oi irinity. and Mr. Welldon — and with scenes of the 
S-bon| and the <'onntrv rnimd. 1/ongley was the only 
' ' ' century wlio has jtresidefl 

M> wiis lifwl from 1829 to 
1h;;»; Kisbop .lenner writes from jn-rsonal recollections as 
one of his pujiils. Piety forbids the intrusion of an 
unduly critical spirit, and it was naturally the aim of the 
'  ' of flipir subjects 

ii'I failures to the 
ucrld. Ihe l>ook is - jirimarily meant for the 

.•.li'i.r.tinn of old boy- : ...ere is more of |K'rmanent 

ral interest than in either of its predecessors. 
' ' ' ' ' " • 1 two of the chapters 

• T were fuller, as they 

 : _ ■iid. 

Mr. W, n. Hewlett's contribution on the History 
of the .Manor* of Harrow will lie valuable in the ey<w 
of lawyers ami nntif|uari«-«. Perha|w the most striking 

the will of the lord," he "placed his son to school 
in remote jmrts to learn the Liberal .Arts witliout the 
lonl's leave." Tliis is tjiki-n to be an indication that 
there WB.S a grammar school at Harrow two centuries before 
the days of John Lyon, which is all tlie more prolmble ns for 
a very long jieritid the Archbishops of Canterbury were 
Ixirds of tlie .Slanor. Tliat this was so is also the opinion 
of .Mr. Hastings Hashdall, whose cliapter on the "Origin of 
Grammar Schools " might with advantage liave been some- 
what more detailed. We know tliat many existing founda- 
tions are but the successors of older schools. Mr. loach's re- 
cent lalnmrs are, of course, referred to; Init what .Mr. Leach 
has enforced by many ]>articuhir instances. Air. Kichard 
Simjison, in his life of Kdinund Campion, i)riefly indicated 
by a telling phrase, and Miss Dnine liad also shown in 
her " Christian Schools and Scholars." Mr. Kashdall thus 
exjiresses his conclusion : — " The jirobability is that 
Kngland was far better i)rovided with granmiar schools 
before the Heforniation than it has ever Ih'cu since." .Mr. 
Thornton has collected valuable information about .lolm 
Lyon, the founder, and his family, which was not known 
at the time of the tercentenary festival of 1871, which was 
" devoted to the worship of a shadowy memory in that of 
John Lyon." 

Mr. 15. P. Ijascelles tells again the story of Dr. Parr's 
secession with 40 boys to Stanniore with the intent of 
starting a rival to Harrow. The attempt was no more 
successful than that in the middle ages to establish a 
University of Stamford in opjjosition to Oxford — an act 
of rebellion of which in terms of fonnidable abjuration 
Oxford men of a former though recent generation were 
compelled to express their abhorrence. In the fluctuations 
in the fortunes of the school it is suggested that other 
forces were at work than the merits of jmrticular head- 
masters. Sir Henry Cunningham in his chapter on 
"Statesmen of Harrow School" tells us that in the 
earlier years of the 18tli century "Eton . . . was 
agitated by an ontliusiiu«m for the Chevalier St. George. 
Its headmaster, ruler of JOO boys, was a champion of tlie 
exiled house: the loyalty of the school became suspect." 
On the other hand, the Duke of Chandos, who was a 
governor as well as neighbour of Harrow School, for which 
his wealth and influence did much, was a devoted 
Hanoverian. Tims the npjMjintment of Dr. Thackeray in 
17 IG, who at Eton had been a warm opponent of .lacobite 
tendencies, itself oi)erated, apart froin tiie qualities of the 
man, to make his administration a great success. Kut 
the same we are informe<l by Mr. Courthope, 
whose cha|)ter on "Harrow Men of I/>tters " is jwrhaps 
the most charming in the lv)ok, contributed lo the decline 
in Harrow's fortunes under l/ongley anil Wordsw<jrth. The 
Oxford movement, and the " vein of historic sentimental- 
ism, half monarchical, half moniustic," which accomi)anicd 
it, of which Aubrey de Vcre's poems are mentionetl as an 
illustration, were antjigoni.«tic to Harrow tradition. It 
might Ik- added that the work of .Vrnoid. who was not 
only a great teacher, but in harmony with the ])olitical 
forces of his day, must have told adversely on llarrow; 
and his government of Hugby almost exactly covered the 
headmasterships of Ix)nglev and Wordsworth, under whom 
Harrow can hardly b«' said to have flourished. .Mr. C. S. 
Houndell in his chapter on Wordsworth is ver}' happy in 
his contrasting of the two men. Arnold's sermons, he 
says, "are inteqn'netrated with the modern s|)irit. Dr. 
Wordsworth breath"^ ''"■ atmosphere of the Council of 

If it is a di.-u(l\aniage to read chapters on the 
{lolilics and literature of one's country through Harrow 

AuguHt l;i, 1898.] 



HIH'ctatlcH, tlio reiultT can correct it for liiniwlf, and lu- 
cannot Imt i)rolit by connecting great careen* with their 
Iwginnings at .school. The two chapters of Sir H. S. Cun- 
ninghani and Mr. Cotirthoix' form a very interesting galh-ry 
of jMirtiaits. 'I'he former lias a generous a]i|ire('iation of 
• 'anliiial Manning.lo whom, however, he erroneonslyascrilx's 
a duiihle lirst. He might, however, have adde<l a word or two 
aliout the irresistible drollery of K. K. Karslake — a 
drollery which made him an unsafe leader in a chancery 
action. .Mr. Courthope migid. alwi have made a brief 
referencf to the iidhience of |)i>!linger on H. N. Oxeniiatn, 
who translated the great (irrman's hooks and was him- 
self a theological writer of considerable distinction. It 
would have been, jierhaps, too s|K>cial for Mr. ('oin-tho|K''s 
l)nrj) to refer to the i)rof<)und influence which Fal)er's 
numerous treatises have exercised in the ("hurch of his 
adoption in a direction which is more in accoidance with the 
devotional habits ajul language of Soutlu'rn Italy than with 
sober Knglish taste. .Mr. Howen's verses on I'onsonby 
(the lA)rd Hessborough of the famous Coinnnssion) and on 
(iriniston will revive pleasant memories in many an old 
Harrovian. It is needless to say that to Mr. Howen — who 
himself writes on football — full justice is done, and the 
tradition of Harrow verse ap]K>ars to be worthily main- 
tained by Mr. Howson. Lord Crewe contributes a prologue 
in verse, and among the other writers are the .Master of 
Trinity, who writes on the benefactions to the school ; the 
present Heailmaster, who gives the history of the cha])el ; 
Sir Charles Halrymple, who pays an admiring tribute to 
Dr. N'auglian ; Mr. I-", (iraham, who writes of school- 
songs and Mr. Farmer ; Mr. Walter liOng, who deals with 
the Kt(m and Harrow match ; and Mr. B. H. Drury, who 
treats of his family's work for the school. Harrow was not 
originally a rich foundation, bat it will gladden the hearts 
of its sons to be told, on the authority of Dr. Hutler, that 
since 1818 not less than £'1.')0,()()() has been contributed 
from private sources, not including the museum, and that 
tlie value of books, pictures, coins, and other presents is 
])robably many thousands more. The school, it would 
appear, has a stronger hold on men's affections than the 
college, for certainly no founilation at Oxford or Cambri<lge 
has received anything like this amount fron> its sons, and 
yet, in a material sense, the colleges must hav<' done, in the 
form of scholarships and fellowships for their graduates, 
more than the great schools of the country. The book, as a 
whole, is a worthy testimony to the great part which 
Harrow has played in the history of England. 

Tho two l)0()ks on Eton wliich lie before ns arc of a U-ss 
monumental clianicUfr. Wo are glail to welcome Ax Kios 
Bliii.iO(iKAriiv, by L. V. Han'oiirt (f^onnenschein, 5s.). In hia iMoface Mr. Harcovirt says that it is "a fiiiit and, I fear, 
iiii'otiiplite attoiiipt at an Kton bililiograiihy." Comploto it 
could hiiiilly hoix> to be ; it is, in the tirst place, extremely 
(lillicull to (letormino on what principles such a book should 1m> 
com|>ili>d— whether it should deal solely with books a)>out Kton, 
or puhlishinl at Kton, or written by authors actually residing at 
or connoctod with Eton at the time of writing, or any books 
written by famous Etonians. It will Ihi seen at once what a 
uompliuated tsisk is before any bibliographist. 

There are a gooil many omissions in tho earlier part of tho 
l>ook, Thu.s Savile's " Chrysostom," which was uot otdy editeil 
but actually printed at Kton, in Weston's V.ird, is not mentioni-d. 
No mention i.s made of tho original edition of " Ralph Rov»t(>r 
Doyst^T, " nor of the editions of 1818, 1821. or 18:J0. CdnH's 
translation of the " Apophthet^ins of Knisnnis," published in 
154?, wlien he Was headmaster, is not cite<l. Nor is the ll>88 
edition of Hales' " Uolden Remains," nor Hales' "Tracts," 
1077. The later hiblio>rraphy is far nuuo complete, though it 
couM, no doubt, be largely .supplemented. Mr. Harcourt deservi« 
groat credit for his careful and laborious little book, and it is 
earnestly to be hoped thot, as Mr, Harcourt's well-known collec- 
tion of vixrieus £(oniaiia is destined to b« eventually bequeathed to 

I - 

lit lliii vtiliiiiio, Hllleli we I'liull li"l'0 to Me UI'iIC liuiuy lii"iilli» 
have elaiMed. 

Such a lKH)k a« the " ;• " ' '' ---'•■■  <■■ - 
■II • lalMlur of [latient 

Etonians will, a' ■• ..^ .1 

is in tlieir p"»' ly t<» 

exist, and, it it ^ .. : . .- ._..: i-. . :■. -j —, '.- . 

A MHrond o«1iti«n of th^>t nhrewd ami eeniai book Krox ik 
TMK FiiUTlKs, l)y an old (' IJuCe Coleriilp-, reww..! 

and enlarged, with no» by Mr Kntik Ttr-. i-r 

(Itontloy, IIh.), seems to take u» Lack n ' 
In the qu»rt«>r of a century after Mi 
school an' ri'at changes. Eton ul : 

nearer in i t<> the Eton of H-IH thiii i 

to tho Eton Ml \||- I ' ' 

degrading huuiiliati' 
In 1870 cleaidiiu'ss, oe. .rn \ . .um i 
for any boy who desired them. Oi! 

ehiin(!0 ; but it seems   •■ ■MJf.d « i 

of iMldity. of pictur' which Mourishetl fi 

earlier Kton world, i .. . . u no such springs c.i , 
as the ancient Fellows of Eton : lianishe<l, too, is a c. 
re]>ntable element of cads and cadgers, that pn^V"! 
credulity of the young and truthful. K|iaiikie and .la< 
John <!ray and Silly Hilly (thoU);h we have hoard i 
ollicient substitute for tho'd has be«.n ) i'' 
I'icky Powell and Jack Simrrow, IJott and Finn 
down into darkness with otiier souls of hcToes. W such 

innnemoriai grotes<pies, such foisl for the inn^ 'y of 

nations, as Mr. Pluinntre and Mr. ISethell, even as I'r. iiawtrey 
himself, now be fouml ? 

Mr. I'himptre, aceording to our chronicler, wa« a short, 
|)<Klgy mail, with a ca»t in the eye, who wore a tjiU hat above a 
surplice when he aii|icared in th<? College clm|K>l : •■'« •'■••'♦ ■..■•■..ri 
on entering the inilpit was to turn up each <'nd •■ 
and ptH'p under It : then in a stentorian voice he ■, 

fjenerally of a very eccentric character, such as, '• And his motlurr 
made him a little coat," or " Wash." 

To all Etonians wo heartily recommend this pleas..  
some, anil happy b<K.k. The jMirtraits are highly eiit. 
and well Worthy of Mr. Tarvor's reputatiim. Uut they ;ire i»it 
all Well ri'pr<Nluced. In ]>artii iilar Mr. I'luroptre in the pulpit 
(p. 171) is characttsriztnl l>y an almost totail absem-o of features, 
and that, too, when our exix-ctiitioii has Ihx'Ii WTought up to tho 
highest i>oint. 


[By mu. h. e. w.vrrs.i 

Tlio enterprise which Mr. Fitzmaurice Kelly, in c u 

with Mr. .John Ormsby (now deceased), has undert-i i 

nothing of the character of tlie famous hero whom tho genius of 
Cervantes has made immortal. Just as the Knight of Ijt 
Maiicha sought to restore the ancient chivalry, so Mr. Fitcmaarice 
Kelly pro|)ose8 to give to tho world ( in no very happy hour) the 
piure and true text of "Don Quixote." For any one the task — 
liuseur /HI a (/e tnijiirij/o— would be difficult. For an Englishman — 
oven for one signing himself s Fellow of the Royal S|>anii<h 
Academy— it would seem to smack of presumption. The first 
(piestioii which the deliuht«<l and surprist!i1 C'ervantophilc will 
ask at sight of this goo<lly volume, resplendent in piu'plo ami 
gold and lino as the l>est English tyjo can make it, is — How 
comes it that now, for the first time, we have the |>ur« text of 
Cervantes':' What have the scholars of Sjiain Intn about that it 
should have l)een reserved for an Englishman to give us la 
jirimrra filicion ilel tffto rMli<iii</o, so in choice Castitian runs the 
legend, of Cervantes' masteri>iecc 7 Not for the first time, it is 
true, has a like honour been paid to Cervaiitea. At least twice 
iHifore has a SiKinish e<lition of "Don (Jnixote " Ix-en printe<l 
in England. In 1738, before the book had received any projuT 
recognition as a classic in its native country— wlien it was still a 

• Dos QCIS0T« »B LA MaN'CHA. Priinera e<1icion del t«Xto resti- 
tnido con notas * una Introdnccion por Jaime Fitimanrice Kalljr y Juan 
Urtnsbjr. llj x^ia., Ix.+310pp, Luadrfs i David Nutt. 1806. 43>, a. 



[August 13, 1898. 

n V o( till' (aiiioiiK 'I'uii.ion type nn<l pupnr, 

V ... i<?»t approve*! DiiU'h artinta, a forRwl 

I' : (the parent of all the micrMHliits portraits 

t-. iiii- ...i> I. ii in.-, iuhI aU noo<»s»ary np|>amtiis. Th<' wlitor, 
Don Oregiirio Mayans y tSiwear, wa« n Spanish Roliolar of 
> . who, if he wan '. fvon of i ' 

1 \i'\ not jikIl'o " r>.  to be li. 

I of his duty Ui tUu 

t  11 Qiiixotu ■' which 

• • ■> <lo ])roper honuur to liini whom 

l'> • ml t') 1k> the Frinoo of Wits. The 

Spaniiih A. :i of 17ftO wa« nvon ItiggiT an<l finer than 

Tnnaon'a, u.;.. .,...,>,„,,. iis not lc«ii inappropriate, with a fow 
nnt«a ami corrrv-tionn, and an elaborate iin:ilyRiR of the fablo hv 
\ ic««nt4» ilo Io« Itios. Kvun Iwforo thin hiul ap]>carc-<1 the exc<>l- 
leiit John IJowlf. an KncUnh 1-lnrnynian, iMciuiibeiit of a romote 
^^ t fonrtoen y«»iir« of his lifo in preparin;: 

» 'ion of " Don <j>nixoti'." This, whirh 

» Io<l of contoiiiponiry ajiprprintion, 

i" . r it« v<>ry full and acciinito not«« 

on all the nuiiioroUH rnfcn-nt-ofi in the ti^xt to the Spanish books 
of chiralricA and the Italian romantic piM'ts. 

Neither Mayans nor IJowlo made any sorions attempt to 
meddle with thi< t<<xt of "Don Quixote"' — tlu> former a<liiptinj» 
Some of tlu- emenilationx in the ltnif<.<>cl8 edition (a piratical one) 
ot ' u' a f>'»- obvious printers' blunders. 

1 Kelly, the first volume of whose 

h II, contninin'; the First Part of " Don (Quixote," 

hi , , A, is much more ambitious than any j-et under- 

taken by an Knglish editor. In a long and elaborate intr<Klnctiim, 
i;iving evidence of ]ntient rest-arch into the bibliojpTiphy of 
" Don Quixote," Mr. Fitzniaurieo Kelly announces on liehalf of 
himself and his a»»ociat<', the late .Mr. .lohn Ormsby, that their 
aim is to preM-ut the t*-xt puru'id of the arbitrary alterations 
'!'■ tie la» nrliitraria* 

" iorex). They have 

'• 1 of the < i<>!iro," printing in 

•'■ . text ■:>{ I.  inj; manifest errors 

of the press, appendinj; in their notirs the most important 
various rtwiings, an<l rejoctin)> every conjectural emendation 
where the oriirinal better exprcsatw the author's intention. 
This is an admirable rule, and the m<Hlel proposed no less 
admirable. Tljcro arc some notable differoiici's, hr)wever, 
'" ' ' circumstances of Shakespeare and of Cervantes — 

Hi Mr. Kolly allowfi. It is not only, as ho 

■ay*. ' 'ion of " Shakespeare " w:i8 the 

^(^^  . Txhile "the text of Cervantes was 

f' Academy." Tlie comparison, to 

*» _ ipinal texta— is bctwt<en the first 

•^litions of ' ire" and thefirstiKlitionsof "DonQuixnte." 

T!"" ?!'••••' AeiMleniy should I»c jaired ofT, not with 

" I. but with the odit<irs of the Cambrid;;o 

" •■ in- i>ar.-»V ' ' .will not hold. The 

fir -o edition of • |trint4'<l sev. n years 

■'" i» no ,i\, iihrice to show that 

**' ' eorrer-t a oiiijle line of his plays, 

'" ' their publi'':ition. 

•'  :>st tliriH- ctlitions 

'*'  Don Quixoto " which the author must 

hi '-ime; an<l there is ample evidence — so for 

as th«'r« can be evidence in soch a matter— that he altered 
in thf aecnnd and thin! th« t«'Xt of the first. On the 
fAhtr hami there is not a scrap of evidence to prove that 
SI, • - • ' •  •  



Ill its 

ntUfittt) U..- U-xl uf the linrl .if the two Millions of iatt. Unt the 

whole question turns \\\>on wlu-tlu-r we are to attach any especial 
vnlue to this first edition of ltp<iri, the only uucorre<-ted edition, 
-• of its iM'ini; the first, and iM'cause it represents the 
i.d moini.script atAd by Miguel de Corvautes to Francicco 
<lo Kohlus. Surely, there lieing in existence two other 
o<litionB, issutHl by Cervantes' printer in Cervantes' lifetime, 
tUertlitio piinrritu Ix'comos of little importance. Tin- book was an 
ex|K>riment in a totally new line -ulreatly, while in maniixeript, 
the object of the censureg of the cultured— entirely diU'erent from 
" irif; the author had yet produceil, and writt<-n the 
linj; foHhiou by a man who was ilepeiident upon the noble 
uuil (txalttHi iHTKons whose literary tusteH it caricatured. A lirst 
edition, publixhed in these circuniKtance.s, mijihtwoll bo expi-cteil 
to be imp<>rfect. The author mi^'ht well Iw careless of its appear- 
ance, as ho was doubtful of its reception. Hut when a second 
(■<Iition app(>ared in a few weeks from the same press, besides at 
least five or six e<liti<uis or reprints in the provinces, with mate- 
rial additions and corrections, followed by a third edition with 
still more new matter -when this new mivtt<'r is expressly spoken 
of and iulo]ited by the author himself in his Seoond Hart, jmb- 
lished ten yi-ars aft<-rwards is it not a Htrange caprice or siijxr- 
stiti<m which prefers the edition, in its imperfect and miit i- 
hit^-d form. Hwarmin>; with jM-inti-r's blinulers uuil others, with 
every mark of having Ijeen neglect«'<l by author ami publiitlier, 
as the basis of a new and pure ulition of " Dtin Quixote " ? 
Vet this is what Mr. Fit/.nmurico Kelly has done, who has 
chosen Cuestii's lirst edition of IGOO in preference to all others, 
ignoring all the Kubsu<pieiit a<hlitions and corrections, excejit in 
his notes and api>en<liceR. Tln'S<( mlditions and corrections, we 
are re<juired to believe, were made by the printer on his own 
account, or by simie oflicial anil ollicious jH-rMon. ("ervantes never 
correct<>d any proofs. No gentleman over correct«"<l proofs in that 
happy ago. "Such a cu.stom was unknown." For tlume who 
maintain that the subsequent correi-tions ware made by (Jervante.s, 
" it would lie necessary to jirovo that Cervantes intrmluccd the 
ayst»-ni of correcting proofs." So Mr. hitzmaurice Kelly, in his 
intro<luction, with much more of equal relevance. 

This bold and swooping assertion of the claims of the first 
edition of 1005 is the one tlistinguishing feature of Mr. Fitz- 
main-ico Kelly's onterpriKO. It is not new to the stuiletits of 
Cervantes, for it was mailo by Don Kiigenio Hart/.oid>iiKch, the 
editor of the two Argamasilla oilitionsof 18<>:l. All other eilitors 
and conuuontatiirs of '• Don QuixoUi," almost without exception, 
have adopteil tho edition of KMtH, tho fullest and most complete 
(however faulty in the printing) which a]i]K'ared in Ci-rvantes' 
life-time, as the Ixasis of the text of the First Part. After what 
tho author himself, who surely ought to have u voice in the 
matter, has said in the Second Part, it is incomprehensible to 
me how Mr. Fitzmaurice Kelly can maintain his strange theory. 
WIkmi his First Part of" Don Quix<it«t " was first |>rint(Kl in MMt, 
Cervttnt<'8 might well have been careless of tlii' fate of his book. 
Tlie author Iiiin.self was in dire straits, almost at the lowest ebb of 
his fortune, a hanger-on of tho Court, from which he had do 
little to lio|H<, and with small reason to believe that this new 
" chihl of his wit," conceived in a prison, would bring him 
credit or profit. But very quickly after the publication Cervantes 
was a<wure<l of tho success of his book. Writing some eight 
or nine years afU'r, in his Second Part, we find him exulting with 
a nnive delight over the iiuml>er of iMlitions iirinted. the ninnber 
of copies sold. No Ismk In-fore lia<l miulo so great a hit. Lvt 
uiTiiif III tiKiiioiinin, lim niitxon In Irrn, lim h(nnhm In rnlifuilni, lo» 
ri<7<« III rilrhriin. Is it credible that this was the Isxik as to 
which Cervantes was so indilfercnt that he retrained from making 
any corrections in it or any alterations y 

And yet some correction« were made in tho second edition of 
1605, and more in the edition of 1608. Who then made them ? 
Mr. Fitzmaiiri<H' Kelly has no liositation in replying that it was 
'' iiit-'r or some one on behalf of the publisher. Ho even 

all the eniiHe<|uenc<'B of this bold theory, rejecting the 
fi'' Mcho is made to lament the loss of the 

St- i ually omitted from its plaot in the text 

in Chapter \Xiil. and consigne<l in small print to an appendix. 

August 13, 1898.] 



Wlif!tln«r < '..rvniiU'd iiumIc tlio corroctionii in thin nml in tlm 
hccoikI (xlitimi of lOOfi with hiii own liiinil in <init<> bi>*ii1ii thu 
i»«iii<. It IN prohiklili', imy, it in crnrtain, tliut ' 'li<1 not 

cornidt liiK |ir<H)fM in tliti litcnil nntiiii!. Tin- m1 tliird 

(Mlitionii Nwiiriii witli tirrorH of tliu prfuminiti' iw ImuI iik .my in tlio 
flrKt. Aiul yiit tluiro nroHotni- novni ami iniiMirtant a4lilitii>iiN ami 
•jorroctionK in tlio Boconil iinil tliird olitionii wliii-li coiiM only 
linvo h<'on miuin hy the author or l>y nomc ono on lii* Ix'half. 
Mr. Kolly, in liis voncration f<ir tht- firirt ami uncorroctti) 
tt'.Nt of l(i(ir», i!Vi>n goos no fur as to charactt-rizii Homo of 
thi) ni<w )HiaHaf;i'!i ax " inAi]>i<t vul^ariticH," and to (ng^cxt tliat 
it was iioMut imitator nfU-r the ntyli- of Avclhmfda, with " ii-mi 
talont " than tho Arii};on(>R<>, wlio iiitnxliiciMl the opifiixhi of th<> 
htt^lin^ of Sancho's aid. Tliis i.i )iun>ly a littU> intri<piil, when 
wt' know how joahius Corvanti'S wa» of his own work — liow l)itt<>rly 
lie rimontcil tiio nuiddling of iiny othur liand with hiu " Don 
Quixote," untl how lio liiniflolf lias «|iok«ii of thoao voiy panHages 
prosiimud to 1h) spurious and charafterizi><l as insipi<l and vulgar. 
Surely Mr. Fitzmaurico Kully has forgotten tho closing words of 
Cid Haniot Hoiu'ugoli on tiiking h<avo of his goosoqnill : " Para 
mi mill mil ill Don QuUnte ;/ i/n yara fh i-l iiuj>'> olinir i/ ij" ftnihir ; 
mltm Ion lion .wmui /iura en utu>." I shall Ih) curious to know what 
Mr. Kolly will do with that gpi-coh of Sandio's in tho Si-oond 
Part (Chafitcr IV.),nl>out this very husincisof tho intei|K>lation 
of tho a.'<K-.stoaliiig. Will this passage also bo relogatod to an 
appendix in small print -" Hii'r mid In mnitncion </iir iri no la 
juijiu H iiiitur lie miciitrii hintoria pucile hawr cuatta qru im putio 

The tru«i and old Corvantistas aro not likely to bo more 
fuvciuniMy inclinod to this now and l>olil vonturo in piuity by 
tho conlradiftory opinions whicli are hold by tho two oditors as 
to tho merits of llurtzonbuHi^h— tlm " only bogottor " of this 
crazy tlioory tho liorosiarch tho iloiiiiiatizinlor ili' mfa innlii nrtii. 
Mr. Kitvimnnriro Kelly, whilo praising tho ingenuity and learning 
of tho Arg:ima.sill:i o<litor whoso gonoral theory as to tho primi- 
tive text he adopts, cenaures him for his wanton and reckless 
enwndations, olworving, with jierfoot reason, tliat "the readers 
of • Don t^uixoto' do.siro to road Corvantos, not to read Cleuiencin 
i>r lliiitzonbiisoh." To bracket C'lenioncin with llartzenbiisch is 
indeoil most unjust to the former, who, though <lull and unhn- 
morous, terribly prolix and jiedantic, ha.s taken no lilnfrties 
with the text, liko llartzenbusi'h, and has done more for his 
author in the way of elucidation than all tho other editors and 
commentators put together. 

But what do I (ind in Mr. Ormsby's translation of " Don 
Quixote"? " The text I have followed generally is Hartr-on- 
huseh's. I5ut Hartzenbusch, thoiigh the most scholarly of tho 
e<litora and commentators of ' Don Quixote,' is not always 
a safe guide- his text is preferable to that of the Academy, in 
being, as far as the First Part is concerne<l. based upon the first 
of La C'uesta's three edition.-), instead of the third. . . His 

emendations aro froi]Uontly admirable, and remove difficulties and 
make rough places smooth in a maniurthat must commend itself 
U) every intelligent reader.'' Those praises Mr. Ormsby modities 
in|iient paragraphs, but his general opiin'on is clearly in 
favour of Hartzenbusch. Mr. Fitzmaurice Kolly so f;ir agrees 
with his i-iilliilKUiiteiir (whose merits as a SiMinish .scholar ami a 
litarued editor of " Don Quixote" I cheerfully acknowledge) 
lUJ to term HartzeiduKsch, emendations ho does not adopt, 
as " juK/iiiiiii'd/c niiiipnlini." How "sympathetic" will apix-ar 
from two instances. In tho adventure with the evil-minded 
Yanguosans, it is writton that tin' Oovil, i/iif no loiinn retr^ 
ilui'iiiir, ordaini'd that their mares shoidd go feeding 
Rozinante, for that ancient charger's destruction. Hartzen- 
busch, as though inspired by a like incontinence, insists that 
Cervantes wrote " luuii /«mm.s refen ilufniu." Again, in the 
same chapter, where, on Don Quixote remarking that the greater 
{>art of the mishap (the jx'lting of stt>nes by the carriers) has 
fallen on Uozinante,Sancho observes; " No haytU i/ue inararillar- 
m' lU'so, siciiilo el iainhiin citbollero aiuhtntc." Hartzenbusch, the 
sympathetic one, has the almost incredible fatuity to correct 
ca6a//oro into cabalhria on the ground that Rozinante is a h^>rse 

not  Tho Oomuui coramonUtor who, in .1i You Liki 

It, to reB<l— 

. utonmi In thr nmnine brcMtlu, 

was pcarccly more oi.t of hnmi- !ie mo<i»l of th« melan- 

choly Jai|nen. Warbnrton's " !- , lio" is not so groat an 

outrage on tho original na Hartzi-idiusoh'* " l>i>n Quixot<- 

1'lie niiiility x-hnli**! wli<>«* iinwrarfnl ]*m» 
Mnilc lliimn- (lull, nnii hnrolth-il MilUm'a •train* 

was reven-nt , |,„_ 

the author I'l ■■"If 

as fjuite sup.'rior t«> tlio i»5/cniv Uiju — Uio «iieuUuru«i auUtor of 
" Don •,luixoU,'." 

It is unnecessary t<i iloal further with Hartzoubuseh ami hi* 
works, esp«'cially as Mr. Fitzmaurice Kelly is better tlian his 
word. Ho praises Hartzenbusch, but docs not follow him. Mr. 
Kelly's own restored text is nia<le np of Cnesta's first nlition 
of 100r», with a few emendations and corr<<ctions. Of thes« I 
have not much toc<miplain. Excepting in tho painful business of 
the stealing of Sancho's (<), why diil Don Quixoto giro 
lil)orty to Oines ilo Pasamoute that t! pie 

and give occasion of stumbling to .i '), 

Mr. Kolly has not taken any groat lilMirties with his autluir. 
Tlio iKMly of his work is l)etter than his preface. What lio has 
done is to print tho text, as it appears in Ciicsta's first i-ilition, 
dividoil into paragraphs with the literal errors correcte«l ond a 
few verbal emendations. The " notos " promised in the title 
page (about which and tho table of contents there aro too many 
fringes) consist almost entirely of reforonoes to various n-atlings 
in other editions. This |>art of the work ' no bwii 

carefully done, and will 1h> of a student 

of " Don Qiiixot*'." The question is whether it w,ii. ui.rth while 
to notice so many editions without r;i!iii- nr atifhnrifv T'^ ]>hico 
tho l!ru.s.sels wlition of ItMiT ami the 

former, a stolen copy of tho ori^ il»- 

tions, most of which were rejotrte«l in subs<f|uent authentic 
e<litions— the latter, a slovenly reprint, without any pretension 
to accuracy — on the same level as the second and thinl 
of Ciiesta is alisurd, and savours of the pon'erse and 
capricious idea of authority which is at the base of Mr. Kitx- 
niaurice Kelly's enterprise. This is not ti f " Don 

Quixote " as the author left it ; still it i« nn ii w,lume, 

a striking witness to tho undying jMiji ho 

included in every Quixote library, anu • d, 

by all tho lovers of Cervantes. 


Poems. Dv Ernest Hartley Coleridge. H  4iin., 
107 pp. Ltuidonaiul New Voik, l.SU^. Lane. 3 6 C. 

It would l>e har<l to deny tho relief of poetry to the owner 
of so famous a >H>etic name as that home by tho author of this 
volume ; and especially so when we all hoin" soon t" bi-come his 
debtors for the " final " biography of his illnstrions 
Yet we cannot help rogn'ttin;; that Mr. Kriif-st Hartley < 'oU-riilge 
did not sifk a respite from his bio<; l.tbours, say. in golf 
or cycling, or anything rather than the c<>m|KMition ami 
publication of minor vors«'. Not tli;if Mr. <,'oleridge"8 verse is 
distressingly " minor " in its (puility : and it is of ronnN> 
unnccessaiy to sav that it \i the verse of a •ehnlsr f^nd a 



cultivated and tli. 1 1 

of rhymosfi-ra wli.' 
nowadays th'in it was in I 

the facul